


Zystopia

by Doug48



Series: As You Sow, You Will Also Reap [1]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Military, F/M, Gen, No Smut, alternate universe - TAME collars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 38,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doug48/pseuds/Doug48
Summary: This is the story about a fox mayor and rabbit cop, and there are some others also....





	1. The Field Marshal at Z+6 Days

In the crowded, Confederation, command center, activity always continued, but now it was a little less frantic. The end of the war was in sight, but most of the mammals were too tired to notice.

“He’s here, Field Marshal,” an aide, this one a raccoon, said from near the doorway. 

The Marshal, a red fox, looked around very obviously and did not see his expected guest. Then the fox looked at the raccoon and raised an eyebrow.

The raccoon sighed. “He’s outside. Said he didn’t want to be in the way.”

“I’ll just go and have a look,” Marshal Reynard told another aide, a badger, and then followed the raccoon out through the door of the command vehicle. The badger only nodded in return, preoccupied with his own duties.

‘Where is he? He’ll still be inside the perimeter, but somewhere he’ll be high enough to see the flames,’ this fox thought, looking around. 'Can't track his scent out here.'

Moments later, the marshal motioned for his guard, a wolf sergeant, to stay back a bit when they saw the colonel nearby. 

“Marshal,” the other fox said and then stepped back from his place near the hilltop and assumed a somewhat respectful posture. He clearly remembered his own long ago training as an infantry mammal. Any observer from the burning city would have seen, at most, his head above the hill. Now, the observer would not have even seen that. The city was within indirect artillery range, and so the chance of seeing something as small as a head from the city was unlikely, but one should never gamble on something like that.

“Carry on, colonel. Mind if I join you? I wanted to see our handiwork,” the marshal said, gesturing. Now that he was close enough, the marshal could smell a kind of satisfaction from the older fox as he went back to looking west, in the direction of the city.

Reynard had smelled the smoke as soon as he stepped outside. The entire city would not burn, but he had known arson and vandalism, and not just in prey areas, were inevitable. They could not stop all the rioting and the mobs, but they could stop some of them, and decisive action now could only help the transition of power in the coming days and weeks.

“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” the younger fox observed. The older fox had turned away again, and moved part way back up the hill.

“I figured there wasn’t much else to do. Your plans are in motion. My people in there with some of yours, the rest of your people out here, and-“

“My people are your people, colonel,” the marshal said. “Like it’s been for years now.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” the former Zystopian replied, but the Confederate could no longer smell complete agreement as the colonel turned away again.

“Ever think about what you would’ve been, if you were a different mammal?” The marshal asked.

If the colonel was annoyed about the continued interruption of his previously silent observations, he didn’t show it. “Nearly every day, sir. What if? What might have been.”

“I never do, or almost never. My family serves the royal family first, and then, the Carnivore Confederation. It is in our blood. I never considered being anything but a soldier. Members of my family become leaders of armies, and so here I am,” and then he paused, considering. “I understand you were a tailor?”

“Yes sir. So long ago that I can’t really remember it very well,” the colonel replied. He had turned away from the hill again, and now he faced the marshal fully as required when addressing a superior officer in normal circumstances. He knew the marshal would give him some space if he insisted, but that wouldn’t be right. 

“What do you think of our uniforms?” The marshal asked. 

“A little too utilitarian. Function, not form. The dress uniforms are better, of course,” the colonel replied, apparently only slightly more interested in this topic.

“As you know, the infiltration teams have linked up,” the marshal observed, finally getting to the point of the meeting. “So far, I find the results to be very promising. However, I would’ve expected you to be more interested in a hands-on approach inside the city, not out here, watching. It's not as personal this way.”

“My anger became cold and impersonal years ago. Mostly. Now? I can stand out here, using my nose and my eyes, so I don't need to be close enough to use my ears or my paws. Later? I will go to the trials. Maybe I’ll visit some of the prisoners.”

The two foxes exchanged smiles full of sharp teeth.

“Sir, it’s been fifteen minutes. You asked me to let you know,” an aide said from behind them, near the wolf guard. This was the raccoon. He was very good at his job, and he fit the ‘same size as your boss’ requirement of most aides. The same was not true for the marshal’s guards, but they didn’t have to share confined quarters with him for hours and hours. The guards just had to take a bullet or blade for him, which was not the same thing.

The marshal motioned the aide back to his own duties, stood in silence a while longer, and then sighed, preparing to walk back to the command vehicle. “Time to get back on my head. Take as much time here as you like. You know the plans and what comes next, of course. You might consider getting some rest, later.”

Now the older fox put his own muzzle back and up in a sign of full obedience and complete submission. Such a move was rarely seen between a fox of colonel’s rank to a fox of the field marshal’s rank. Such a gesture was more common between one of far lower rank, possible a leftenant, to a field marshal. The colonel had not done it in years, but he knew the Field Marshal would understand and appreciate the gesture.

The younger fox paused a moment, put a paw on the older fox’s shoulder briefly, nodded, and then went back the rest of the way downhill.

“For my family and my species,” Colonel Wilde said, looking uphill again.


	2. ZPD at Z+6 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another view of the ongoing collapse of Zistopia. Same day, but a little earlier.

Inside the city, the atmosphere was less cordial.

“Duke,” the rabbit said, after turning around and seeing him watching her. It was late afternoon, and all ZPD officers, of all shifts, had been called in for duty.

“Just what the fuck you think you’re doing Hopps?” The weasel spat. Like everyone here, he was in full street uniform. He had half a dozen other cops with him. “And that’s Captain Weaselton to you.”

“Well, let me see. The whole rickety corrupt enterprise has been coming apart since we found out our army was defeated, and we all know the Confederation opinions about TAME collars and the treatment of predators, don’t we? My officers and I are going to do our jobs. I presume you’re going to hide here and protect the building?” The rabbit asked sarcastically.

She added in an afterthought just as the weasel was about to reply. “And I am Leftenant Hopps.”

“Yes. Arrogant bitch since day one,” the weasel said, performing, as he always did, for his followers. They didn’t seem to be as impressed as they had been as recently as this morning. Now, they looked scared.

“Don’t you mean arrogant doe? I’m a lepor, not a canid, or mustel like you.”

“Don’t try to play the educated card with me!”

“Can’t read it anyway,” one of the officers near Hopps said, just loud enough to be heard. Weaselton, full of frustrated rage, turned toward him.

“You will address me with respect, patrol officer! I am still your Captain and this is still the ZPD!” He screamed. “And where is your control collar?”

The wolf officer rather pointedly ignored the weasel by turning his back and rejoining the interrupted task of loading supplies into one of several police cruisers. 

“We’re leaving, Captain Weaselton. That’s what we’re doing. Mammals need protection now more than ever with the Confed army scheduled to come in tomorrow at mid-day. Gangs will be out tonight, one last night of arson, rape, and vandalism. We’re going to do something about it.”

“Giving a speech, rabbit? That’s all you are. Talk. Since the day you got here.”

“The day I got here? That’s when I first met you. The first gods damned day. You showed me. Remember?”

Now the weasel said nothing. If anything, the rabbit looked far more calm than she had been. There was no tapping foot. No twitching nose. Her ears were up and focused on the weasel.

“You sexually propositioned me, then grabbed me when I declined. Your partner, minder, whatever, held you back. Remember?”

“I was never charged for that.”

“You are never charged for anything. Not yet. Tomorrow? That’s probably going to be different. The prisoners will be found. Mammals will talk, and fingers will point. At you.”

“And at you, rabbit! And Bogo!” The weasel replied, frantically. "I only collected those prisoners. Whatever happened to them later wasn't my fault!"

Judy did not reply immediately. She scowled, but then she smiled.

“But hey, there is some good news. I guess we can settle old scores? If you like? Haven’t you promised to get me one of these days? Well, here I am.”

She reached behind her back and drew the fighting knives every officer carried in addition to their slug pistols. The knives were mostly intimidation weapons, and Weaselton’s weapons were larger and more vicious looking than most. 

Judy’s knives were more practical, and had seen more practice. Not so much in the weasel’s case.

“Come on. Want to show me your junk again? I got a couple of blades that’re just perfect for a little street surgery.”

The weasel looked at the officers near the rabbit, and then left and right at his own officers. There were fewer with the weasel and those few looked scared. The ones with the rabbit looked angry and ready to fight. Many had paws on knife handles, or had actually drawn pistols down by their thighs. Weaselton’s mammals were keeping their paws away from anything that looked like a weapon. They had seen her fight other mammals. They didn’t want to see it up close and personal.

“Fine. Abandon your posts and to hell with you!”

The rabbit looked around one last time as her officers boarded the various police vehicles. Now that loading was done, they were ready to move out to various destinations already discussed. The primarily predators team would protect the slums, also called the ghettos, or simply "Happy Town". Other teams, including the one led by Leftenant Hopps, would protect critical infrastructure targets like water treatment, food storage, and climate control. No officers would be wasted in the rich, prey only, parts of town. They had their own soldiers, for the most part, and presumably they had safe rooms.

“Where are we going?” Leftenant Hopps asked no one in particular. Then she boarded one of the vans, and motioned the others forward and out the ZPD motorpool area. Probably for the last time in her life. She tried not to think about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's what Judy's doing at this point.


	3. Zistopia Government House at Z+3 Days Mid day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another view of the war. This one is from the present leader of Zistopia.

“Lady Bellweather. It’s time to sue for peace. Now, while the armies are still in the field. Now, while we have a measure of control. It will give us time to reorganize,” the general said. He was a ram and held his post only because the Bellwether trusted him not to try to use soldiers to seize power. 

“Now? No. We’ll wait. As you say, the armies are still in the field,” the lamb replied. She was staring out the window of government house. ‘The buildings are so pretty and our location is so useful. The citizens can be so industrious, if only someone like me can keep them united against a common enemy,’ she thought, not for the first time. 

Most of the population of Zistopia was unaware of the true state of the war. Censorship was one of the first things she had done after removing Lionheart from power and she expected never to regret that decision.

“My lady,” the ram said, trying again. “Their offensive surprised us. All our tactics and strategies are based on a kind of citadel defense. Our tanks keep the enemies away from the interior of the flock, and kill their machines before they get too close. Now, our enemies are inside-“

“Our enemies have always been ‘inside’, as you put it. Those damned biters! Our ancestors should have killed the lot of them instead of settling for pain collars,” another ram said from his place on one of the couches.

The general glared at the interruption, but didn’t try to continue speaking. He knew perfectly well that his own position was, at best, uncertain at the moment, and he could be removed at any time. The current state of the army's morale was his responsibility, after all.

“We’ve been over this ground before, Doug,” the Bellwether said to the ram on the couch, turning from the window. “We need someone to blame for our problems, so we have to keep the biters around. They let us put TAME collars on them after we convinced them they couldn’t trust their own savage natures. Also, they do all the crap jobs and no one wants to get rid of them because they’re so useful."

“Not all of them have collars,” Doug replied, glancing at the general again.

“No, not all. But everyone knows that a pain collar on a soldier won’t work. Maybe in practice? But not on an actual battlefield. All they do is try to die, and soldiers need some sense of individual need for survival, and those collars shock them more or less constantly when they are hyped up to fight,” the lamb said. 

“Not if we reprogram-“ Doug started to reply. He stopped when the Bellwether waved a hoof.

“Doesn’t matter. Not now. We didn’t collar our soldiers, and we did collar the biter civilians. Now, some of the soldiers appear to be in open rebellion,” she said.

“Fine. Find out which ones and kill their families. The others will learn to obey. It’s what we’ve always done before,” Doug suggested. “And it always worked.”

“That is got to be the stupidest-“

“They’re all worthless anyway-“

The Bellwether listened to them bickering for a time, but with only part of her attention. She was sure the early reports of fratricide were exaggerated. Preliminary reports were always inflated, weren’t they?  
‘No, better to wait and see. Even if we do lose, the other nations can’t allow the Confederation to gain Zystopia. Or anyway, they can’t allow the Confederates to keep the city, the ports, and the priceless artifacts here,’ she thought.

“Soon it will be time for us to relocate. But not yet,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but I didn't see much point in having them argue more than this. "Biter" is another word for "predator".


	4. Zystopia at Z+6 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we come back to one of the groups of cops dispatched in Chapter 2.

“Well, now what?” Wolford asked. Like the other half dozen, he was staring at the bridge. 

‘You’re asking me?’ Delgado thought. Aloud, he said, “we go as far as we can. I don’t want to leave the cars for the mobs to destroy, but there is no place to hide them, and it’s a long walk.”

That was obviously true. The predator portion of Zystopia was not the oldest, but it was the least desirable. It was an island, and typically flooded during major storms, so the residents had started building houses on stilts and either getting around by canoe or raft, or using elevated walkways, when it rained.

The bridge was about a quarter-mile long, made of multiple sections, and high enough to enable ships to pass beneath on a regular basis. Some of the cops had been here before, when someone had called in a prey-suicide attempt. Predators, of course, didn’t jump off bridges. Or if they did, the cops were never called.

This evening, the normally clear two lane roadway had various debris, including several wrecked cars. To the cops, it looked as if the cars were dragged here recently, apparently to discourage further traffic. If so, it was working. The ZPD was alone on this side of the bridge.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’? Well, we’ve come to it,” Delgado said. “You will follow me. If we have to stop, you’ll probably know why.”

The other cops, all predators, nodded, so Delgado continued. 

“Remember what we’re here for. Prey start trying to cross, we discourage them. That’s what the riot control gas, shields, and gas masks are for. There may be predators that want to help us. I’m not sure how to handle that.  
Normally I’d say no because of the paperwork, but I doubt there will be any after this.”

He grinned, tightly, and some others grinned back. It was just now sunset.

They got back in the three radio cars, and drove cautiously up the bridge, and then across. There were other teams of cops at the other bridges and the tunnel, but contact with the tunnel group had been lost. There were many signs of fighting. Bullet holes, burned out cars, and bloodstains, but no bodies. 

‘Probably dumped any dead ones in the river,’ Delgado thought. He didn't want to think about what probably happened to any unwelcome guests that weren't dead yet. 

They didn’t actually make it all the way across the bridge. Not because of the debris, various immobile vehicles, or even the massive barricade on the predator side. They had to stop because of what they at first thought was a citizens’ militia on the barricade.

There were a dozen or so mammals. All armed, and all wolves, except for two. One was a panther. Another, an otter, was obviously a local citizen, and he was wearing a kind of homemade uniform. He was clearly not in charge, and clearly delighted to be here. 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” the citizen said, to no one in particular. 

One of the cops, Wolford, looked up and started to respond. “We had duties all over the city. Not just here, and we didn’t know-“

“And didn’t care!” The otter replied. 

“Cut it out, Bobby. These are not the bad cops. They’re here now, aren’t they?” One of the wolves said. He had a kind of presence, and the others made way for him, so Delgado thought this wolf must be the alpha. Also, he had come from the other side of the barricade with a deer following him around with a radio backpack. 

“Leave the cars. They won’t fit through the barricade anyway,” the wolf said. 

Delgado hesitated, so the wolf continued. “Or stay here with them. Actually, that’s even better. My mammals and I aren’t here, officially, but here you are, looking at us. Is that going to be an issue?”

“No sir,” the tiger replied. He could see the other wolves watching from along the top of the barricade. “I am Sergeant Delgado, ZPD. May I know who I am addressing?” 

“You may not. Get your mammals through to the other side of the barricade,” the wolf replied. 

 

Time passed and Delgado found himself and the other members of the ZPD sequestered about a hundred meters behind the barricade. They still had their uniforms, but all their equipment, and some personal effects, had been confiscated. 

“Well, we crossed the bridge. Now what?” Wolford asked. It was past midnight. 

“I’ll find out,” Delgado said, and got up. He noticed the way one of the nearby wolves watched him. “Just want to talk to your boss.”

“K,” the wolf replied, and made a hand gesture at one of the other wolves, who nodded back, in a sort of chin up manner that Delgado had noticed previously. 

The command wolf, whom Delgado was starting to think of simply as “Alpha”, was using the radio when Delgado and his guard approached. The big cat didn’t hear much of the conversation, but it seemed like a simple status update. “We’re still here and still waiting” kind of thing. 

“What are you doing here?” Delgado asked. 

“Probably the same thing you’re doing, or were going to do. Protect the predator civilians,” Alpha replied. The radio mammal reacted to that, slightly, but it was barely noticeable. Both the wolf and the tiger smelled it, however. 

“You don’t believe me?” Alpha asked the deer. 

“I believe you sir. Of course I do. I just don’t think….” He trailed off, looking around, but obviously not looking at the tiger. 

“That our guests will? I understand. They’re smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves, and that’s all that really matters right now anyway. When the balloon goes up-“

“Sir!” One of the wolves on the barricade shouted. He was pointing at something on the bridge. 

“Which it just did.”

 

Delgado was not allowed up on the barricade to watch, of course, but he could hear, feel, and smell what was coming. There were thousands of prey mammals, all different types, and all in one group, coming this way. The ground shook very slightly. The strong scent of anger, fear, and alcohol had become very noticeable. 

“You and your officers going to behave or do I need to make threats?” Alpha asked. 

“I don’t believe threats will be necessary. What are your intentions?” Delgado asked. 

“Something illegal,” was the reply. “Probably.” 

Then the wolf grabbed a loudspeaker, climbed the top of the barricade, and told the mob to go home. They roared an answer, and Delgado thought they must still be several hundred meters from the barricade. Otherwise, they’d be throwing things over it and trying to tear it down.

Alpha climbed back down and motioned to his mammals. “Shoot any that get too energetic.”

The radio mammal approached him again, but the wolf didn’t take the microphone. Instead, he pointed to the panther on top of the barricade, and smiled, showing teeth. “Cat? Go for the big ones.”

She grunted in acknowledgment, and took aim with what appeared, at first, to be some sort of shot gun. Then it fired, quietly, again and again, launching projectiles down into what must be a mass of prey mammals. Delgado could not see, but he could hear, the results. 

“Those are night howler, by the way. A nice mix of various drugs. Mostly hallucinogens. Also some strength enhancements and pain blockers,” Alpha said. “It’s based on a common agricultural flower used to keep pests away from more the valuable plants. Sort of like the way we’re using it now.”

Delgado was speechless.

“I’m not a savage, but the mammals on the other side of the barricade and the mammal from whom I take my orders? They might be savages. Or maybe my boss is just very pragmatic. I don’t much care.” Then he laughed and took the microphone. “Phase 2 successful at South bridge. We will continue to observe and report.”

Releasing the microphone, he turned back to the tiger as sounds of panic and the smell of blood came from the other side of the barricade. “Don’t go anywhere. The colonel will want to talk to you.”


	5. Zystopia at Z+7 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldiers, civilians, and former ZPD

Zystopia is not, technically, a walled city. The various climate control structures between habitats look similar to castle walls, but they are actually just large weather insulators. These structures could be defended by a small number of friendly soldiers, if there were any. However, if there were, Field Marshal Reynard would have sent his own soldiers over the walls in an escalading attack because the plan had never anticipated a siege. 

The Confederation Army entered the city precisely at noon through all Eastern wall openings simultaneously. The other entrances / exits, on the other side of the city, were blocked by armored vehicles to prevent the departure of refugees. There were many mammals, considered responsible for the current state of the city, that might have tried to escape, had this not been done. 

Major roadways were cleared of civilian transport, in some cases by simply pushing cars and trucks out of the way, and then the same streets were filled with soldiers, tanks, striders, and other military vehicles. These were a show of force, a demonstration to all citizens that Zystopia has lost the war. The tanks, with mostly former Zystopian crews, and the new grey colors of the Confereration, headed for armories and motor pools. The other vehicles, with armored escorts, went to various control nodes, and never in numbers less than four. 

Food storage, climate control, water purification, radio and television stations, and government buildings all received attention. A dozen grey war machines visited the former mayor’s mansion, and there was another dozen at the ZPD headquarters across the square. 

Within two hours after noon, the city was full of grey clad troops and grey war machines. Most of their interactions with the Zystopians were peaceful, after the Zystopian prey realized that these armed, foreign, predator, soldiers were not here to kill anyone. In the manner of soldiers everywhere, they looked like they’d done this sort of waiting thing before, and would do it again as often as necessary. Mostly they stood around, and sometimes they interacted with local citizens. 

 

“Hey, you!” One of the Confederation wolves at the intersection of 7th and Main shouted at a deer working in a nearby, and very solitary, food truck. It was around 5 PM. 

“Me?” The deer replied, frantically looking around, and hoping that someone else was the center of attention. His customers had all moved back far enough to run if something bad happened, but they were still near enough to see if whatever happened was exciting or interesting. The grey uniformed wolves reminded the deer of some gang members he’d seen previously, but no gang was ever this heavily armed. 

“No, the other buck in the food truck next to yours!” The wolf replied, sarcastically. The deer couldn’t see the wolf’s ears because of the helmets they all wore, but the deer thought the ears had gone back. There were certainly a great many teeth visible as the wolf came closer. He was followed by two more wolves, and they had their paws on their weapons. The guns were not pointed at anything. It was as if they had forgotten they had them. 

“Umm. May I help you gentle mammals?” The deer asked, attempting to treat this as just another customer request on any normal day.

“Give us… one of each of those… Umm, whatever those are,” the wolf replied, gesturing at the pictures on the sign. 

'Can he not read?' the deer wondered, but he said, “OK. Let me ring this up. Are you paying with cash or... Ummm" Then he froze. The wolf just looked at him, curious, and shook his head. 

“Damn. No local money, of course. All I have is Novan script. What’s the exchange rate, anyway?” He said to one of his comrades. That wolf, of course, only shrugged. “I guess it don’t matter. Zystopian money won’t be worth crap tomorrow, so how about you take our money one for one, right?”

“OK,” the deer replied, glad to find out that he was going to be getting any money at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved the second of the two scenes to "Live by the Sword", and so now the chapter is shorter than it was. I also moved several complete chapters, including what was chapters 3 and 4 to Sword, so as to make the overall structure more manageable. I had originally planned to have more interaction between the soldiers and the civilians, but it just wasn't happening.


	6. Zistopia at Z+7 Days late afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, the Confederation conquered the city, and now they have to set up some sort of interim government. In this case, they want as many trustworthy local predators in positions of power, with your own people behind them, as they can get. 
> 
> I haven't discussed it much yet, but the Confederation is only one of three world powers in this alternate universe. We've seen the predator power, but not yet the prey power [on the other side of Zystopia], and I wanted another power for more stability in this imaginary world.

My day began in the usual way, with a wake up call from the guard. I know that each one of my wake ups might not be a day, but that’s how I think of them. The guards had been acting odd these last few days, and I’m not sure why. I’ve been here about five years. I say 'about' because I don’t have a window and haven't actually seen the sun recently, so the count of days might be wrong. Prisoners don’t get watches or smart phones or much of anything else.

“Bob?” I asked one of them, the rhino. There are also several deer, at least one buffalo, and a wolf. I’ve never seen the warden, but I’ve heard it’s a ram.

“Ummm. Hey. Fox?” The guard replied. He knew my name; they all know my name, but they aren’t allowed to use it. This is part of my punishment. I had a guard, once, use my name. Once. I never saw that one again. This one continued, clearly nervous, “ah, you’re being released.”

This is new. I’ve never been released before. I’ve been executed a few times. Not for real obviously, but they tried to make me believe it each time. Also, Bob’s attitude is different. He smells like too much alcohol, no sleep, and…. Fear? That’s odd.

He hands me a pair of coveralls, correctly sized, and I put them on without comment. 

So, they’re going to release me. Okay. I’ll play along like a good prisoner. Like I always do. 

“That’s wonderful. What do I need to do?” I ask. It’s important to play my part, so I don’t get my guards in trouble. Most of them are basically good mammals just doing the job of keeping me here. 

I must’ve gotten the tone wrong this time because the guard continued, “no, really.” Then he opened my cell door and stepped away, which was also unusual. They normally block the door. 

I figured I might as well pretend it was real, at least for now, for the watching cameras. He gestures me ahead, like usual, and then walks behind me. I know the way, but then we take a left when we had always took a right before, and there’s another open door. I pause, and Bob gives me a pair of sunglasses, which is so odd that I just sort of carry them even after I'm nearly blinded by the sunlight outside. 

Walking through, I see several unknown mammals. They're all canines, and armed. Mostly hyenas and coyotes, but there is one black wolf. 

“Mr. Wilde? I am Capt. Char, and these are my mammals,” the wolf said, gesturing to the other canines. “You've been released into my custody.”

Somewhat confused at this point due to all the strangeness, I join them without comment. I also put on the sunglasses as I pass through the last open door. I wonder if I'll be allowed to keep the glasses? 

Outside, I see, smell, and hear further proof that I’m not being tricked again. I can see no armed prey out here. There are several grey colored war machines and more grey uniformed soldiers in the parking area, all the gates are open, and there’s a hole in the barbed wire topped fence. I can hear what must be the sound of war machines, including tanks, trucks, and mechs moving around. The canines with me smell tense and alert, but not particularly afraid, and I can smell the kind of smoke produced by gunfire. 

The soldiers take me out through a gate, and we get into one of the transports, and start moving. I can’t tell where we’re going because this is a combat vehicle and I’m not in the driver, gunner, or commander position. Passengers can look out through gun ports in the back of this kind of vehicle, but I’m not sure if I should be doing that, so I don’t.

 

An hour or so later, after several stops and starts, we stop one final time, and they lower the ramp at the back. 

“Follow me, sir?” Capt. Char asks now, as if I’m some sort of Very Important Person. Well, I guess I am? Apparently, they sent this vehicle and this squad of soldiers for me. The captain leads me toward what I can see is government house, the home of Zystopia’s mayor and legislature.

It doesn’t look the way I remember from five years ago. There are no bullet holes, but there is some trash and some stains that could be blood from mammals that may have been injured or killed and the bodies moved recently. There are also a dozen or so grey mechs, all kneeling with their primary weapons pointed out, instead of up. The weapons are not repointed at anything or anyone, but they're clearly ready to be used. I remember seeing pictures of Confederation mechs like these many years ago during the obligatory military training that all Zistopian predators get. 

“Please wait here,” Char says, after we’ve entered the building and stopped outside with must’ve been the mayor’s office. I’ve never been here, of course, and I don’t expect the previous mayor is in the city, much less still holding this office. I expect I am about to meet the mammal in charge of all these soldiers. 

I wonder what he wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing Nick in the first person.


	7. The Mayor's Residence Z+7 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick meets the Confederation field marshal and the Union of Prey Mammals ambassador.

“In there,” Captain Char said, so I stepped through the doorway of what must’ve been the mayor’s office in more peaceful times. 

I didn’t see the mayor. Instead, I saw another red fox like myself, maybe a little older. He was standing to the left of a fox sized desk near the window. I could tell the desk was a new addition to the room by the marks on the carpet. There was also a guard in powered armor to the right of the desk, and several chairs in front of it.

Not sure what else to do, I walked in and stood in the middle the room. I’d not been invited to sit, so I didn’t.

I waited a half minute for the other fox to speak, but he did not. I considered waiting him out because I’m sure he has far more, and more important, things to do today, but that would’ve been impolite. He had just rescued me from prison after all.

“Ah. Good afternoon, I guess.” I said. I still thought of this as morning. I knew it wasn’t because of the location of the sun. 

“Yes. Good afternoon, Nicholas. Have a seat,” the other fox said, so I sat. The guard moved toward the window behind the desk, but not far. Just far enough to keep the other fox out of the probable firing arc if I acted improperly. 

“As you can see, this is the former mayors office, but I’m actually the Viceroy. I am Field Marshal Reynard, and I rule Zystopia in the name of my queen, Skylar III”

He paused, so I filled the silence as he no doubt expected. ”What happened to the previous mayor? Lionheart, I think it was?” I asked. 

“No, it was Bellweather, but she's left the city, so we need to appoint a replacement as soon as possible,” he said. “Mammals like stability and that means a continuous government. We’ll also need to replace the city council, of course.” 

“Who do you have in mind?” I asked, but by now I had a pretty good idea. I can smell his expectation and curiosity, and I’m sure he can scent my own polite interest. 

“We need someone local, predator of course. Someone with some sort of leadership experience. Someone like you, in fact.”

“Experience? Sure, if you consider failure experience,” I replied. “All I’ve done is start an amusement park, which was seized by the government, and I was imprisoned, when they decided I must have been encouraging my fellow predators to go savage. In fact, that was sort of the point of the park, but the idea was that they-”

“I consider experience, experience,” the marshal replied, waving away my continued explanation. “And I’m sure you’re aware of the way my mammals and I feel about the previous administration?”

The intercom on his desk buzzed before I could reply verbally, and he touched it with a claw. “Yes?”

“Sir, the Union ambassador is here. He says it’s urgent that he see you. Immediately.”

“Is he alone?”

“No sir. He’s got a guard with him.”

“The ambassador can wait. I’ll buzz you when I can see him. The guard will stay outside, of course.”

“Sir.” The voice replied.

“Well,” Reynard said, addressing me again. “Would you like to meet this mammal? If you get the job, you’ll be seeing more of him, I’m sure.”

I nodded. “I met the ambassador during one of his previous visits, but I don’t think he remembers me. And I guess he might be a different one now.”

“Oh? That’s good to know; and he's the same one. Do me a favor and don’t speak unless I speak to you and ask a question?”

I nodded, so he touched the intercom again, and the guard outside held the door open to let a warthog in.

I’ve seen Union mammals, including this one, before, of course. Every Zystopian has. They’re always visiting the rich parts of town and showing up on TV with the mayor or members of the Council or, in very rare circumstances, carefully selected member of the predator community. They are always talking about the importance of the equality for all mammal kind and that sort of thing. The ones on TV were always optimistic and happy. Unlike this one, they were never angry.

“I demand an explanation for this unwarranted act of senseless aggression against the peaceful city of Zystopia,” he said, before he even made it halfway across the room. He did not sit, or even try to, in the chair next to mine. I turned my chair slightly so I could see him, but he did not acknowledge me yet. 

“Good afternoon ambassador. I trust my soldiers have treated you with the proper respect?” The Marshall asked. He had not moved from his position by the desk, but his body language was slightly more open. The guard had also not moved, but she smelled more anxious than before. 

“Your thugs you mean? I’m sure they’re committing numerous crimes against mammal kind right now.”

“Crimes against mammal kind? Like torturing political prisoners or executing mammals you don’t like without charges, due process, or trial? That sort of thing?” The marshal replied. 

The ambassador ignored the question. “I demand you remove yourself and your army from the city immediately,” he said, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect any such thing to actually happen. He smelled like soap and perfume. 

“Unlikely,” the marshal replied. “Departing, I mean. We were invited in after some unrest occurred, and fires broke out. I have some sworn statements by various prominent citizens somewhere…” He started moving papers around on his desk. I expect the warthog to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. 

The ambassador had put himself closer to the desk, with me between him and the guard. He may have thought the guard would not risk shooting me, but I didn’t think it would matter. Anyway, the hog was in jumping reach, and the guard was a tiger, so shooting was unlikely anyway. 

“This illegal aggression-“ the ambassador started to say, and the Marshal interrupted him.

“It’s quite legal, as I’ve said. There was civil unrest, my army was nearby, so we came in to restore order. I think you'll find that we were invited.”

“By whom? This mammal?” The ambassador asked, finally acknowledging me by waving in my general direction. I said nothing of course.

“No. This is Mr. Wilde. He was one of those political prisoners I was talking about. Don’t you remember him? I was thinking about offering him a job.”

“Can he speak for himself? Or is he just a lap dog?”

They both waited, but I held my tongue. 

The marshal broke the silence. “Well, this has been fascinating, but I’ve got other work to do and I’m sure you need to get home and consult, or whatever mammals like you do when you’re not ignoring inconvenient things. “

The Marshal touched the button on his desk again, and the door opened. This time two guards entered and they came to stand near the warthog. The guards didn’t touch him, but one gestured toward the door.

“This is not over,” the 'hog said, completely unnecessarily, on his way out.

I waited until he left and the door closed again, and turned back to face Marshal Reynard. “I don’t think he likes us very much.”

“I don’t think I care, Mr. Mayor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that quote from Infinity War and I was just looking for some place to put it...


	8. Z+9 Holding Area

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rabbit Judy Hopps, meet rabbit James Hopper.

Two rabbits were talking in a temporary holding area set up by the Confederation Army. The building had been some sort of warehouse, previously, but now it was full of prey mammals of both genders and all different sizes. New mammals were arriving and other mammals were leaving more or less all the time. 

“What are you in for?“ The buck asked the doe. They wore the remains of their previous uniforms, without weapons or other gear. The male in military green and the female in police blue.

“I am, or I was, an officer in the ZPD. How about you?” The doe replied in a somewhat resigned tone. She kept her ears down her back and tried not to be noticed. The buck had started doing the same thing when he joined her, after she arrived. There were other rabbits around, but not many. 

Most of the upper ranks of the ZPD were already dead, by one means or another. Two dozen had been killed “accidentally” while in a bus at the ZPD headquarters. The guards had laughingly called it a ‘weapons malfunction.’ Talking about it seemed to cheer them up considerably. 

The other members of the ZPD from the headquarters, predator and prey, had been separated from the military prisoners, and taken to a different warehouse. The guards had been discussing the probable, very unpleasant, fate of the prey, but they didn’t seem to know what to do about the predators. Judy had heard word “collaborator” once or twice, and “traitor”, so she thought she had a pretty good idea. 

The buck hesitated, but replied. “huh. I’m thinking you’re going to have it rougher than me.”

She nodded, and he continued. “I’m James Hopper, formerly a leftenant in the Army. I disobeyed orders, and so I was stripped of rank and handcuffed to a tree.”

“That’s how they found you? At the tree?” She asked, and he nodded. “I haven’t seen many other army officers around.” 

“How did you end up here?” Hopper asked. 

“Confed military caught me, like the others, but not in ZPD headquarters. I had taken some officers, and all the predators I could, with me when I. That is, when we removed ourselves from the ZPD, the day before the city was invaded. My team was guarding the city water supply when the wolves found us that night,” she replied. 

It was a common story. Everyone had expected the city to be invaded the day before yesterday, but there were obviously elements of the Confederation Army in the city before that. Teams of unidentified wolves had turned up at various critical locations during the night. 

“I also sent officers to the bridges and the tunnel to try and dissuade the mobs from attacking the primarily predator parts of town. I don’t know what happened,” she continued. 

There were stories, unconfirmed, about what the wolves had done to mobs attempting to invade those parts of town. No one was sure about those stories, but everyone who knew anything agreed the teams had been extremely well-informed and well coordinated. No one seemed to know anything about the cops, and so Judy Hopps was afraid her people had been killed by the mobs. 

“So, they brought you here?” The buck said.

“Yes,” the doe replied, shrugging. 

“I didn’t expect to meet a cop,” Hopper said, apparently changed the subject. 

“In here you mean? Or just still breathing?” Judy said, trying some gallows humor. 

“In here, I guess. I can’t say I much like police mammals right now.”

“Join the crowd,” the cop replied, and then realized what she had said. “Or, I’d rather you didn’t. You want to talk about it?”

“Not much to say. I was ordered, by the military police, to shoot a prisoner. I declined, so they shot the prisoner, and handcuffed me to a tree. That’s where the Confederation soldiers found me. The Confeds were shooting most of the prey, and I expected to die also. But I didn’t.”

Then he looked back out at the crowd of mammals around them. “Most everyone here seems to be some sort of bureaucrat, low level political functionary, or business mammal. The sort of upper middle management mammals necessary for the day to day running of the city, but not the sort to make decisions. I expect those mammals are somewhere else.”

“But everyone here was part of the old pain collar system?”

“Yes,” he replied. There wasn't much else to say, now. 

“You haven’t seen those MPs again have you?” Judy asked.

“No. Two zebras. One short and one tall. They probably died when the command area was overrun.”

“You need to tell our captors what you saw,” the doe suggested. “It might help you.”

“Would they believe me?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” she replied, and smiled tiredly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have spent more time on the name of the non-Judy rabbit, but I prefer not to. It's just a name... Mostly I identify them by species. The ambassador, for example, is a warthog, so he doesn't really "need" a name yet. I'm still working on the way the other world power is arranged, and I'm not sure exactly how or when to introduce them.
> 
> There is more about James Hopper in the "Live by the Sword" story.


	9. Crimes against mammal kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the city has been taken, evidence is being collected to justify the invasion. That evidence will also be used in formal criminal trials and some of the evidence has been used more informally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Z+10 Days. At the Courthouse

“Please state your name, academic level, age, and duties for the record. Be aware that this session is being recorded,” the interviewer said. He was a lion, and not very old. He stood in front of the prosecuter's table, in a room with several desks, and many chairs for those wishing to see the proceedings. 

“I am Dr. Otterton. 42 years of age. I worked in the medical pathology department at the University of Cassandra,” the otter replied. “I used to live in Zystopia, and I wanted to help, so I informed my government that I was available. I came here, and was given a lab, several assistants, and a work load.”

The otter sat to the right of the judge, who, in other times, would have been a ram or ewe. Today, it was a fox. Behind the fox, the symbol of the City of Zistopia could be seen and the motto “aequalitatis proficit.” The otter had read it, but thought he must have misunderstood.

“Are you being coerced, or forced to testify in any way?” The lion asked. He had no mane, but he looked, in the eyes of the otter, very professional. 

“No.”

“Did you volunteer to come and testify?” The lion asked. He was careful to stand out of the way of the camera team. 

“No. I’ve got a great deal of work to do-“ The otter started to reply. He was clearly nervous, and not used to being filmed. His eyes kept straying to the camera lens and then he would look away. 

“Please allow me to rephrase. Do you understand why this recording is important?”

“Yes. You want to punish the guilty parties. You need my help for that.”

“We want to punish the right guilty parties. That’s what we need your help for.”

“Yes. You said that,” the otter said, nodding. “I’m not sure how much I can help with that, but I’ll do what I can.” 

“That is all we ask. How many bodies are you working on right now?”

“I have fifty-two more to go. I have performed fourteen complete autopsies in the last two days, and all the bodies, or parts of bodies, have been examined to some degree.”

“Have you done those autopsies correctly?”

Now the doctor looked more angry than tired. “Yes. Each and every one. One after the other. All information is correct and meticulously recorded by my assistants. You’ll see when the data is delivered upon completion of my task. I have not rushed, but I would like to.”

“Why would you like to?”

“These bodies, these mammals, they were all clearly crime victims. I don’t want anyone else to suffer their fates,” the otter replied. “Some, most, must have died in a manner very unpleasant.”

“Do you know where they came from? That is, were you told?”

“I heard most were collected from one or more warehouses, but I don’t know which ones or where. Some of the fibers and debris would seem to support that.”

“That is correct,” the interrogator replied. He did not elaborate about who’s warehouse it was or had been and he did not mention that the skins of some of the victims had been found in the homes of wealthy prey mammals. Mammals now deceased. “How many were predators?”

“Of the sixty-six, sixty-four were predators. Two were herbivores; the so-called prey species.”

“Which prey species?”

“I’m not sure. The bodies have all been damaged in various degrees. The two prey were identified by the lack of the sharp teeth of predators. Best guess, after brief visual examination?”

“Please go ahead and speculate,” the lion said, and the fox judge made a kind of ‘go ahead’ gesture.

“Probably a deer and a rabbit. Based on size, weight, and that sort of thing. Approximately.”

“Cause of death?”

“I don’t know yet. I- . These two have not been processed yet.”

“How many males and how many females?”

“Of the entire sixty-six, probably most were males. Some genders remain uncertain in the remaining unprocessed.”

“Because of the damage?”

“Yes.”

“Could you elaborate? Using layman’s terms so I can understand?”

“And anyone watching? Very well. Of the fourteen examined, twelve were males. two were females. Based on DNA. All the bodies show clear signs of deprivation. Mostly starvation. There is very little fatty tissue.”

“When skin was available to be examined, on the wrist and ankles, ligature was clear in many cases. Some of them were only skin, but no ligature was apparent on those and cause of death is usually uncertain.”

“Ligature?” The lion asked. 

“They had been bound. While alive obviously. Probably by metal manacles of some sort. Handcuffs maybe. Two show signs of zip ties. One of those had the plastic still on the body when it was brought in.”

“Go on,” the interrogator urged.

“Most of the bodies had bones recently broken. Legs, arms, fingers, ribs, skulls. Cause of death was probably some sort of blunt force trauma in every case. That is, they were struck or punched or kicked. There were no bullet wounds to the heads, as far as I could tell by examining the skulls I have,” the doctor said. He paused, remembering, then went on.

“Half the bodies showed signs of vaginal or anal damage. Of the others, only two were intact enough to rule out sexual assault.”

“Intact?”

“Yes. Some of the bodies were either very old, burned, or had been treated to increase the speed of decomp, and the soft tissue was too decayed. As if whatever or whoever did this had apparently tried to conceal the extent or cause of injuries by further damaging the bodies postmortem.”

“After death?”

“Yes, that’s what postmortem means,” the doctor replied, annoyed. “Sorry.”

The interrogator pretended to ignore this apparently irrelevant interruption. “How many bodies might be tied directly to a particular mammal by cause of death or similar, common evidence?”

“You mean have I recovered bullets from particular gun? No. Have I found unique marks on the bodies from certain weapon? No,” the otter said. “I’ve got lots of hair and fiber samples from various prey or predator species. Too many, in fact. I think many of the victims were kept together in a cage, so, many of the fibers will match other victims, but I don’t really know yet.”

“I have compared the damage to the tools that I was given, but the evidence is not conclusive. These tools or others might’ve been used. Many of the bodies were clearly killed by another, larger mammal without tools. The tools had all been cleaned, so there was no blood to match, and of course figure printing is not my department. At least one body was apparently killed by an elephant. The foot pressed down on the chest. The chest was crushed; all the ribs were broken and most of the internal organs in the chest ruptured. The damage looked like an elephant foot, but I have no idea which elephant or which foot he or she used. Or maybe it wasn’t an elephant, but a hydraulic press shaped like an elephant foot.”

“That was the cause of death?”

“Probably. There were other injuries at or near the same time, and in any case, those ruptured organs might’ve been sliced or cut at some point prior to death? The damage was too great to be certain. Also, I don’t know how much blood that mammal had when she died, so exsanguination is also possible. It was a female wolf by the way. I don’t know how fast the death was. She was definitely in pain, but I’m not absolutely sure how long,” the otter said. Then he stopped, and just seemed to stare into space, and then down at his paws in his lap. 

The lion went back to his desk and sat down, looking through his paperwork. 

“I can go back to work now?” The otter asked. He alternated looking at the judge, the interviewer, and the camera. 

“Yes. You have my thanks, and the thanks of this court,” the judge said, looking at the attorney, who also nodded. 

“I’d like to be done with this, and go home, back to my wife and kits. Soon. This has been very unpleasant.“

“Yes. We would all like to be done, but, not yet,” the judge replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of several planned court room scenes.


	10. Nick Visits Judy in Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is being moved around the city, from one location to another, to familiarize him with the city that he's supposed to be leading. The Confederation would like the rest of the world to believe that Zystopia is under the control of a local citizen, and not the Confederation Army. To make that work, Nick has to be seen doing various things. The Prey Union and the Alliance will, eventually, need to meet the new Mayor and Reynard does not want them to think Nick is just a puppet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Z+12 Prisons

“And here we have-“ The warden was saying, but I’m not really listening. 

This prison reminds me rather forcefully of my own cell only last week, and I find myself looking back at my wolf guards seeking reassurance more often than I probably should. If they mind, they keep it to themselves. 

“Hey. If they try to put me in one of these?” I said to one of them, John, “put a bullet in my head.” I’m not really joking, but I try to grin as if I am. 

“No,” Edward, the other guard replied, grinning. “We’ll put a bullet in their head.” I know they would, too. 

The warden, a raccoon, stopped talking as soon as he heard us. He pretends not to notice the byplay, waits an appropriate amount of time, and then proceeds with the tour. He’s been told, by the Viceroy, that the Department of Prisons will answer to the Mayor's office. 

We’ve seen many cells so far this morning, with all sorts of different mammals. Buffalo, deer, rabbits, and even some predators. The rabbits are kept segregated according to sex, but crowded in their cells, the way they like.

In the female rabbit cell, I see a familiar face and smell a familiar scent, and then she notices me.

I had not expected to see her today, and I’m not sure what to say. “How have you been?” 

Next to me, my guards are passively listening, as they always do, except when I engage them directly. They don’t really care what we’re doing at this moment, and I find myself, briefly, a little jealous of their simple world view. They don’t have to attend a dozen meetings a day, most of which might be summarized by some mammal telling me ‘this is what we’re doing, and we don’t really need your input’. 

And then I realize how stupid I’m being. The guards have to attend the same meetings I attend, and their jobs are different, but really no less complex. If I get hurt or killed, they’ll be punished, and they know it. 

“Nick? Can’t you see I’m in jail?” Judy replies. She puts her paws on her hips, her ears go up, and she cocks her head at me. Her scent is inquisitive and kind of doubtful. 

Well, yes, I can see that. Then I find myself getting angry. Yes, she’s in jail, but so was I, until recently. She has to know that. How could she not? 

I wonder. Does she really think we are that different? Prey like her have, or had anyway, easier lives than predators like me. Maybe she thinks it’s okay for someone like me to be in jail, but not someone like her. Maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought? Maybe she’s changed, and she's not the same open minded, relatively speaking for a member of ZPD, mammal that I met six years ago? Maybe she’s just like the others in the cells near her, and so she should be here, and should share their fates, whatever they may be. 

I’m about to turn and walk away when I see her ears, like radar towers, turn toward John. He must’ve said something, but not loud enough for me to hear it.

I turn to him also. “You have something to share? What was it?”

His scent goes from amused to fearful more or less instantly when he sees my pinned back ears. Clearly, he had said something stupid, and he thought I would agree, but apparently I don’t. “I said, ‘silly rabbit’,” he replies. Then he puts his muzzle up and back further than I've ever seen him do before. As a predator, and a canine, I recognize the submission ritual, even if I've almost never seen it. He’s letting me know that he’s truly sorry, and, as his pack alpha, I can punish him however I like to make sure it never happens again. 

Embarrassed now, I ease my ears back forward and turn away from him, not sure what to say. It wasn’t that big a deal, what he said. I’m angrier about what Judy said. 

When I turn back to her, she has her muzzle up and back in the same way that John had, and her scent is now terrified. Seeing this, my anger evaporates. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“I’m good, you?” She says, softly, with her muzzle back to level, and after a short pause. “They treat us pretty well, all things considered.” 

She means that they are treated as mammals with rights. Among other things, they get plenty of food, no torture, psychological or otherwise, and are allowed to wear clothes. “Yeah. I guess you’ve heard about the trials?” I ask, still not sure what to say, and then wish I had not mentioned that. 

Her scent goes back to fear again, she shrinks back a little from the bars between and replies. “They don’t really tell us much. Mammals come and go, and the ones that go? They never come back.”

I turn to the warden. “Is Judy scheduled for trial? When is it?”

“Yes, your honor,” he replies, nodding. “Tomorrow morning. She’s charged with, among other things, being a ranking member of ZPD, and so she shares the guilt for their crimes.”

I look back and forth between the two of them, the raccoon and the rabbit. “I doubt she had anything to do with torturing prisoners. Can I just pardon her? I am the mayor, after all.”

“Yes, your honor. I’ll make a note to delay her trial, at the very least. As for a pardon? I don’t see why not,” the raccoon replies. “On the other paw, I haven’t actually seen a prisoner pardoned as yet, so, I’m not sure how it might be done. I’ve heard the judges sometimes pardon mammals, after their trials, of course.” 

I turn back to Judy. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” she replies. Her scent is better now, less worried, but still not especially happy. 

“If you’ll follow me, we have this in-processing station,” the warden says, pointing and continuing the tour. Like me, he’s got several things that need to be done today, and the problem with the rabbit is apparently solved, so we’ll go to the next item on the list. 

“Lead on,” I tell him, and wave to Judy as we walk away. 

 

An hour later, we’re outside the prison, on the way to my car for the next appointment, when I hear shouting. I look at my guards, who clearly have no idea what was going on, and then I move toward the noise, ignoring, for now, my guards’ obvious distress. 

“Damn it! Red One is delayed. Civil disturbance. Investigating,” John says into his radio. 

The disturbance consists of three predators and one prey mammal. Apparently, the silent, and terrified, rhino had given the now angry cats a ride, but now the rhino could not make change when the predators tried to pay. 

“Calm down,” I told them.

“Who the buck are you?” One of them, a bobcat, asked before he got a good look at me and my guards. Only VIPs have wolf guards these days, and everyone had seen my swearing-in ceremony anyway, so they must know who I am. 

“Good afternoon. What seems to be the problem?” I could easily solve this, or at least stop the arguing, by ordering my guards to shoot the rhino, or the bobcat could do the same thing. He’s a soldier; he and his mammals are wearing unpowered armor and they're carrying their weapons . 

“This grass eater-“ the bobcat began, but I interrupt him.

“Yes, I understand. What’s your name? What unit?”

“Sir,” he replied. “Squad leader Gato, Third Legion. These are my squad mates.”

“Okay, Gato? How much was it? The fare?”

“Three bucks,” Gato replied. 

I paid the rhino, and gave him some advice, “hoof it.” 

“Let’s try not to terrify the pray mammals okay? They’ve had a hard time these last couple weeks,” I told Gato and his friends after the herbivore left. The carnivores appeared to be skeptical. 

“I’d like you guys to help me reunify the city. That means being patient with the prey. They’re not sure what to do and they’re not sure what we’re going to do. With your help, we can have stability again and peaceful cooperation. That’s what we all want, right?”

“Yes sir,” Gato replied. The other two soldiers, less uncertain now, nodded, so I nodded also. They headed toward a nearby bar. 

I turned back toward my guards. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Police Department, sir,” John informed me. “They need more warm bodies, and some sort of standard operating procedure, now that they have to treat all mammals more or less equally.”

“But some of us are more equal than others, right? ” I replied. “We need a police chief. Viceroy Reynard told me he wants someone experienced and local, if possible, but not a predator. I wonder who’s available?”

“We’ll find out, I guess,” Edward said, and I nodded, but I may already have a suitable candidate in mind. I'm just not sure who I need to tell to make it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a little hard on Judy here, but I don't think Nick would be very sympathetic toward any prisoner right now. He hasn't seen the trials yet, and doesn't realize what sort of [high] mortality rate these prey prisoners have.


	11. Z+13 Court and Government House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy meets Nick's father

“Take him out back,” and shoot him, but the second part went unsaid, as usual. The judge, a ram named Bean, believed that prisoners should have some hope of survival or they might not leave the courtroom peaceably. He believed everything should be done in an orderly fashion, and he didn’t want a mess here, inside in the main courthouse. 

He banged the gavel on the sound block, and motioned to the bailiff. “Next.” So far today, fifty mammals have been taken out back, and four more went to prison. The judge had been told that he could spare nine out of a hundred for life in prison, and release one of each hundred. The other ninety had to die. ‘Forty more to go out back, and five more for prison, before I start over. I may have to choose one for pardon at random,’ he thought. 

The next prisoner was a rabbit in chains, wearing ZPD blue. 

“And who’s this?” The judge asked. “I thought we took care of all of them already?” 

The prisoner said nothing, but the prosecutor spoke without bothering to look at the attorney assigned to defense. “Prisoner 555112. Judy Hopps. Formerly leftenant in the ZPD. Should be easy.”

The judge nodded, and the other attorney looked up from his notes briefly. His arguments against execution of ranking prey mammals from ZPD had already been made, recorded, and then more or less ignored. 

“Your Honor,” a new voice spoke from the audience. It was a male wolf and he’d been waiting for this moment. “I’d like to request remand.”

“Oh?” The judge asked. “Why? Who are you?”

“I am William Berkeley. Internal Security Division. May I approach?” The wolf said, waiting deferentially. 

The judge nodded, and then motioned to the bailiff, who stood near the judge’s desk. The wolf approached and handed a document to the bailiff who handed it to the judge. The judge looked at it, and shrugged. “Fine. She is your problem now.” He banged the gavel again. “Next.”

Judy Hopps was escorted out the front of the courtroom by the wolf, and then another prey mammal entered from one of the other two doors. 

 

“Enter.”

Judy Hopps was escorted into the office by a tigress wearing some sort of battle armor and carrying what could only be a Taser stick. Hopps had used one, herself, in her previous life. Tazer sticks for rabbits are smaller than the sticks used by tigers. 

She saw a red fox sitting behind a very large desk. He was about twice her age, and he was clearly using the same sort of stool that Judy saw in front of the desk. This was not the mayor’s office, but it was in the capital building. There was no nameplate on the desk and no name on the door. 'What was the name of the previous occupant?' She wondered. 

The rabbit jumped up on the stool placed in front of the desk, when directed by the guard. Her paw cuffs made the jump harder, but not impossible. They were heavy enough to make her slower, but not heavy enough to stop her from jumping. 

“Lefttenant Hopps. Greetings. You know who I am?” The fox asked. He was not wearing a military uniform, but he had a kind of martial look. He cocked his head and sounded only mildly curious. 

‘Probably a bureaucrat,’ she thought. Aloud, she said, “no sir.” She was careful to keep her ears down her back, and tried to appear smaller and less threatening. 

“I am Col. Wilde. I believe you met my son several years ago?”

Judy was surprised, but now she thought she noticed a family resemblance. “Yes, sir. We. That is, he helped me track down some leads. We thought someone was using drugs to make predators go savage.”

“Yes. I understand you were searching for, but never found, something called night howler’s?” The fox asked, using his paws to make air quotes. “Nobody was drugging any predators, by the way. What would have been the point? As a prey, and a cop, you knew that nearly any predator, at least in the poor part of town where most lived, could be accused of being savage at nearly any time. All it took was one prey mammal to complain and then a cop like you shows up to punish the predator before even asking a question. Sometimes this happened in other parts of the city as well.”

Judy did not reply. She knew this kind of thing used to be common, after all. She, and her officers, had never done that, but she knew other officers who had. Prey mammals in the more affluent areas didn’t like to have to see that sort of thing, so the practice was more common in the slums.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The fox asked. 

Judy noticed the tigress guard shift slightly. “No sir. I’ve been in a cell since,” she replied. "Since the liberation." She nearly called it the invasion, but had learned not to do that. The predator guards didn’t strike her when she said it, but they growled, and Judy got the message. 

“You’re here, in this office, for me to determine your suitability to be the public face of what we’re calling the New Police Department of Zootopia, or NPDZ. We want a local prey mammal for the position, for various reasons, and you appear to be the best qualified.” He did not say what those reasons were, and he said nothing about the message from the Mayor's office yesterday.

‘Not Bogo?’ Judy thought. ‘I wonder if he’s still alive?’ 

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Don’t thank me, rabbit. It’s part of your rehabilitation,” the fox said, again using his paws make air quotes. “We get something out of it, and you get to go on living. That is, if you accept?”

“I don’t guess I have a choice,” Judy replied.

“You have a choice. If you decline, I’ll send you back to a warehouse, and you can wait for your next trial with all the other ZPD members of your rank and above. We captured a few alive.”

Judy didn’t know what, exactly, had happened to some of her fellow officers. Her comrades. Her coworkers. Some were friends, and some were not. Weaselton for example, was not, but there were others. 

“You haven’t had access to the news, but you may have heard the rumors. Confederation troops discovered an interrogation area, not far from the ZPD headquarters, with some rather interesting occupants. When we questioned the ones with the ability to speak, they said they had been picked up and then handed over by mammals in blue. Members of the ZPD, in other words. They didn't know what, exactly, had been their crimes. 

“None of them identify a rabbit officer such as yourself. They identified some hippos, elephants, zebras, and others,” the fox said. “The relevant ZPD officers have been punished." 

“What happened?” Judy asked, but she knew. 

“Those ZPD on site were shot.”

“That’s your plan? Kill all the prey? Don’t even need to pretend to have trials,” Judy said, surprising herself. ‘Apparently I want to die.’ 

“No. We would be willing to settle for decimation. Most of you will get fair trials and then first-class hangings and gravestones. Well, maybe a bullet instead, but it’s basically the same thing. We will not do mass graves for most of you. Some will be pardoned. Some will get life in prison,” Francis replied. "Some will work for their freedom." 

The fox took the rabbit’s scent, smelled the anger, and allowed his ears to go back against his skull. “You don’t like it? I don’t much care. I don’t like your kind because all you’re good for is rutting and eating. You’re barely even sentient. Maybe we should give all of you pain collars like we had? We have plenty, now.”

“We? Were you, that is, are you a Zystopian?”

“Did I not tell you? I am Nick Wilde’s father and he’s a Zystopian. So, yes, I had a collar in my time. Unlike you,” the fox said. 

“An eye for an eye until the whole world goes blind?”

“Do not mis-quote Gandhi at me, rabbit. Do. Not. There will be peace. Even if I have to shoot every second prey mammal in the city, I’ll do it. I need to know if you’re willing to bring a kind of justice to the mammals of Zootopia," the fox replied. "But now you’ll be doing it for us.”

“And if I won’t?” Judy asked, but she knew. 

“Fair trial. Bullet to the head. You were a lefttenant in the ZPD, so you share their responsibility, their culpability, their guilt, for what they allowed. For what you allowed. You helped prop up the old, repressive, system, and you benefitted by being promoted. Now you have to pay for that.”

The rabbit stared, horrified. 

“Yes or no,” the fox said. Judy heard, and saw, a kind of movement from the guard and knew how important the answer was. 

“Yes sir,” the rabbit said. 

“Excellent. You’ll be assigned a predator assistant to make sure you don’t make any avoidable mistakes. You've already been promoted to chief, so you won't be promoted again. Be good at taking blame, obeying orders, and keeping your opinions to yourself like you did for the old ZPD, and maybe we’ll even give you an actual pardon some day,” the fox said. ‘When hell freezes over,’ he thought, not much caring if the rabbit heard him subvocalizing. 

The fox took the rabbit's scent again, and added, “look on the right side. No collar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I was going to do this scene for comedy, and much sooner than Chapter 11. She was going to meet Marshal Reynard, who has a completely different view of rabbits. He was going to threaten her with "a bunch of guys in funny hats hitting you with rubber chickens" if she didn't behave, and then offer her the job of police chief. Somehow, that scene just doesn't seem appropriate in the current story.


	12. Z - 3 Years Zystopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the liberation, life wasn't so great for anyone with sharp teeth. Members of ZPD sometimes made it worse. Some violence in this chapter.

The rabbit was on her way home when the call came in.

“Bravo 15, please proceed to 2224 Vohra Lane. 10-15, 10-45, and 11-99.”

“Dammit,” Leftenant Hopps said, hitting the lights and sirens, and then making a U-turn when the nearby vehicles stopped. She thought about reporting code 10-42, but didn’t bother. They’d just tell her to report to the scene. 

2224 Vohra turned out to be a store in Happytown. The kind of place that sells pretty much anything, but nothing of great quality. There was a small crowd of predators at the scene, and all of them had their pain collars activated. Many were on their knees, and some leaned against walls or abandoned cars.

“10-23,” Hopps said into the radio, when she got there.

“10-4.” 

Hopps stopped her car and jumped out, searching for the mammal in the blue uniform with his, or her, finger on the ‘crowd control’ button that all ZPD officers carried. She wasn’t surprised when she saw who it was. She had not really been surprised at the use of the pain collars anyway, having seen them used again and again for sometimes trivial reasons.

“Officer Morgan,” the rabbit said, marching over to the wolf. “Take your paw off the control. Now.”

Morgan was a typical, or somewhat typical, officer in that he was a predator. Few prey mammals wanted the job, after all, and, anyway, Hopps preferred preds because most criminals were preds. Fighting fire with fire seem very reasonable to her. 

“You going to make me, rabbit?” The wolf asked.

Surprised, Judy hesitated a moment, and looked around. There were few other blue uniforms on site, and those few exhibited a kind of bored indifference. There were also three civilian wolves dead on the ground near the store. The rabbit knew who had probably shot them.

Leftenant Hopps drew one of her knives and sprinted forward, jumped, and landed on Morgan’s chest. She grabbed one of his ears with her free hand and put the tip of her fighting knife under his chin, pushing it up enough to draw blood.

“Finger off the control. Now. Both hands out where I can see them,” the rabbit snarled.

The wolf complied, and then the rabbit continued speaking. “Very good. Now, you’re going to walk, slowly, over to my car and lean down on the hood so my arms don’t get tired. I would hate to have to jam this blade up into your mouth and then your brain to ease my burdens and, just by coincidence, end your life.”

The wolf made no verbal response, but he did take the rabbit to the indicated patrol car. Once there, Judy hopped off, let go of the wolf’s ear, and took the knife out of contact with the wolf’s neck. 

The wolf backed up, and put a hand to his neck. He looked around quickly and didn’t see an overabundance of sympathy from his fellow officers. He kept his other hand away from his own weapons and pain collar controls.

“Tell me what happened,” the rabbit ordered. She thought she already knew, but the procedure was clear. She was supposed to ask.

“My partner and I,” the wolf began, motioning to a nearby deer, “arrived 30 minutes ago and saw half a dozen wolves vandalizing the store. We told them to submit by laying on the ground, they refused, and one of them bared his teeth at us. We opened fire. A crowd gathered, so we called in assistance. The crowd was getting restless when you arrived, so I hit the pain button. Most arriving supervisors approve when I do that.”

As expected, none of this surprised the rabbit because this sort of scenario was fairly common. The dead wolves were probably not vandalizing the store and may not even have snarled, but the official version on the news tomorrow would only mention the activation of the pain collars with a comment about officers being threatened. Several of the on-scene cops were prey; and police predator collars did not respond to remote control the way civilian collars did, so they had not felt any pain.

Police collars did not respond to most remote-controls, anyway. Leftenant Hopps, as a superior officer, could have activated Morgan’s collar at any time. She could do it now, but she didn’t like to use the damned things.

“Give it to me,” she said to the wolf.

He reacted with uncertainty and anger, ears going back against his skull, and head turning left and right as he sought support from his fellow officers. He didn’t see any.

Judy knew this was due to the combination of several factors. First, Morgan wasn’t very well liked, even by fellow predators. Second, many of these officers, like Hopps, were prey species, which more or less automatically outranked any predator. Third, Judy was a leftenant and therefore the highest ranking here. All the cops are trained to respect that, and so they do. 

The situation might or might not have been different if Judy was a predator. But then, few preds rose above sergeant rank in the ZPD.

Morgan handed over his control unit and Judy sent him to assist in crowd control. That is, he was told to go away, stand in one spot, facing outward, and keep the now very sparce crowd away. There were few local prey, and the living, non-ZPD, predators had left as soon as the pain signal stopped.

Judy stayed on the hood of her car, gave occasional orders, thought about the report she would have to give to the chief, and waited. Morgan was not very bright, and he knew Hopps was not particularly well liked by the Chief. If the rabbit was killed or injured on the job, well, that would be too bad, right?

Hopps heard Morgan’s pistol before she saw him move because she was looking the other way. The weapon made a unique sound when being pulled from a holster, and the ‘snick’ of a mechanical safety being released is also distinctive. Rabbits had survived in the wild, long ago, due to superior hearing, and this rabbit had not lost the skill.

She jumped immediately to another point of cover, this time to the other side of the patrol car. She did not stop there as she heard the bullet pass by.

'Probably thinks he’s going to blame it on a disgruntled local citizen,’ she thought. ‘Which is stupid because we know they don’t have any guns. We took all of them away years ago.’

Morgan did not shoot again, and Hopps was soon able to get close enough to attack. She did not bother to use her pistol to return fire, and again, she did not use her pain controls. The other officers, predator and prey, were watching, and they needed to know she was no easy target, bunny or no bunny.

The wolf still had his pistol out when he heard, or possibly, smelled, the rabbit behind him. He started to turn, still gripping his pistol with both hands, so Hopps jumped and landing on his chest again. This time, she used more force on the knife and watched Morgan’s eyes get large in pain and shock, and she felt blood on her front from his mouth. She jumped clear and left her weapon where it was as the wolf staggered and fell. Only the hilt of her blade was visible, now.

She jumped back on the hood of the car and addressed the nearby offices, predator and prey. They were all watching, and had watched, of course.

“Anyone have a problem with that?” She asked.

There were a few grins, mostly from the predators, and nearly every head shook in negation. Many hands were obviously open, and one of the cops said, “no leftenant. Want us to finish up here while you get cleaned up?”

She looked down, and realized her armor was nearly covered in Morgan’s blood.

“No. I need to hang around, but I may use that hose over there,” the rabbit replied, also grinning.

She knew that many of the local citizens had seen the whole thing, and she wondered what they made of it. Had Morgan not been predator, Hopps might not have been as free to react way she did, but then, it was Morgan who killed the local wolves. She didn’t expect to ever find out what the locals thought. None of them would be foolish enough to come to the police station and say anything.

As she sprayed water on her armor, she saw some graffiti on the wall nearby. 

‘HE WILL RETURN’, it said.

She knew to whom that referred, and she knew, or she thought she knew, where he was now. 

“No, they won’t ever let him out,” she muttered, and turned off the hose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a kind of broken mirror of a story called "Trust" I wrote in Zoo1.1. Same, or similar, characters, and similar situation, but different reactions, and this is NOT the idealistic, relatively new, rabbit officer Judy Hopps. This is a whole different rabbit.
> 
> I thought about having a red fox watching, but the timing isn't right. Later, I plan to have a "how did Nick and Judy meet?" chapter.
> 
> There was a finnic fox watching, but I didn't put him in the story.


	13. Z + 14 Mayor's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is taking a break from the tours and speeches when he gets a visitor and then some more visitors.

I was asleep, as usual, on the floor in the bathroom when my butler woke me up so I can start my day. I don’t have an internal alarm clock, but that’s OK because I acquired a Butler, and a bunch of other mammals, recently when I acquired this new job. I also ended up with a giant house with some truly amazingly large rooms, including a huge personal grooming and hygiene area. I’m still trying to decide what to do all the extra space. 

“Sir?” The butler, James, asked. “You need to get up.“

“Why?” I replied, looking up at him. “I don’t have to get up. It’s my day off. Go away.”

“I can’t do that sir. It’s 9 AM and you have a visitor.”

“Who? What?”

“He says his name is Fin. He’s a Finnic fox and I caught him in the wine cellar,” James replied. “He says he knows you, so I put him in the library. He has a suitcase with him.”

Oh, right. I told Fin that he could crash at my place anytime. Now is apparently anytime again, so here he is.

“Was he armed? Was there any fighting? He can be a mean drunk.”

“No sir. John and Edward are keeping him company.”

“I’m amazed that you let him in.”

“I didn’t sir. He was already in the wine cellar when the guards made their rounds.”

“Right. You said that.”

Yes, that’s definitely Fin. He thinks of himself as a wine snob because he drinks wine [if there is any] before he drinks beer, and he drinks beer all the time because it’s easier to acquire. Says he doesn’t trust water.

I got up, scratched, and started toward my bedroom door. James stops me.

“Ahem,” he said, and pointed.

Oh, right. Clothes. I always forget about that when I wake up, and I always sleep in the fur. So I get dressed and head downstairs, and I hear Finn before I see or smell him.

“So, I says to that mofo , what chu talkin bout? Dat’s my money!” And, of course, the obnoxious laugh, but it doesn’t last long. “Waitaminute. It’s Wilde his own self,” he, or his voice anyway, says. I can’t see him yet. 

He flings open the library door, just before James gets to it, forcing the butler to jump out of the way. Fin barely notices. “Lookee what they let out o’ prison!”

“And hello to you too, short stack,” I replied. Behind him, I can see my wolf guards looking somewhat shell shocked. I am sure Fin is not what they expected when he said he was a friend of mine.

“Short stack? Best you can do, dog? And what’s with those silly speeches you’ve been giving? Sound like a politician,” he says. He’s got his ears focused on me, and head cocked to one side, curious. “All mammals are created equal? Buncha crap.”

“Guys? This is Fin, one of my oldest friends. Or anyway, the friend I’ve known the longest. He is always, until he does something truly stupid, welcome here.”

“Ah, ‘bout that,” he says, or starts to say, and trails off. Now he isn’t looking at me. 

“Want to tell me about it?”

 

I get some expected visitors about an hour later. They are internal security police, not the New Police Department of Zystopia that Marshal Reynard is forming and I visited recently. Both are tigers, and they work for my father. James answers the door and does not let them in. I stand behind the door waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation, and my wolf guards are in positions further inside the house.

“We have reason to believe that a wanted fugitive is in this residence,” one of them says.

“Good morning gentle mammals,” I greet them, after motioning James out of the way and opening the door enough that the tigers can see my guards. “I am Mayor Wilde.” I would like to be clear with them about the kind of trouble they could get into if they push things too far. The Gestapo is used to getting what they want, and I need to put a limit on that. Starting here and now.

“Sir,” the one on the left says. “I am Leftenant Fell, and this is Sgt. Walker. We are in pursuit of a finnic fox, suspected of consorting with prey supremacists. We believe this criminal is in your residence.”

They’re both dressed in the elaborately business like way of secret agents everywhere. Or on film anyway. Both are wearing coats despite the normal temperature common to Zystopia year-round. They haven’t tried to barge in, or even insist that I let them barge in yet, so I know they're not stupid. 

“There is no finnic fox here,” I reply. He left about 10 minutes ago, and again he didn't use the front door. “If I see one, I’ll let your commander, my father, know.”

They already knew about the family relationship, but they don’t appear to have instruction about how to deal with it and I have to wonder why. If they try to force the issue, there will be a fight, and they might not win. They smell confident, so they probably think they can take my wolves, but they can't be sure what would happen to me if I got caught in the middle of a gunfight this fine morning. If I get injured or killed, their lives are probably forfeit. If not by my father, then certainly by the Viceroy. I probably need to talk to the new PDZ chief about it. 

“Very well. Thank you for your cooperation. Good day,” Fel says eventually, and they depart. 

James closes the door, and my guards put their weapons back on safe. 

“Where-“ but I don’t get to finish before the door reopens, and Finn comes in. I had asked him to wait a couple of hours and make sure he was not nearby during that time. Of course, he ignored that. “Come on in.”

“Where’s the food?” He asks. He’s got a length of chain around his waist, and at least one dagger that he didn’t have previously. He has a very narrow focus, but he’s very good in that area.

“James?” I ask, and the butler gestures toward the kitchen, looking at Fin. 

“Fin? You and I will need to discuss this. If you’re going to be staying here, you can’t antagonize the secret police. Or the other police, for that matter.”

“Course. Wasn’t my idea. They think I know things, and want me to share, and I don’t. So, they cook up some phoney crap. Like a I gives a damn about prey supremes. Buncha idiots,” he says, and follows James. 

I follow them, and John and Edward go back to their posts. Five minutes from now, I expect Finn will have forgotten all about those tigers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the examples of Nick being an unreliable narrator. He doesn't know what the instructions were to those tigers, but, considering that they made only a brief, verbal, attempt to enter the house, and then gave up more or less immediately, one can assume that their instructions were to avoid an escalation. They're secret police. Of course they would have orders about which doors to break down and which ones not to break down.


	14. Z-1 year Zystopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can control the weather, what else might be possible?

In a secure government meeting room, a squirrel scientist was slowly putting his sheep audience to sleep. Dr. Groves was not known for his oratorial skills, but he didn’t want to have someone else, that might not fully understand the project, do this. “… So as you can see by this graph, a throughput of 10 to the 15th joules may possibly be stored and then released-“

“Wait. What is a jewel again?” One of the three rams asked.

“My Lord, it’s a unit of energy, it’s a watt second or newton meter.”

“What second?”

“No, watt,” the other ram said, trying, and failing, to keep a neutral expression. “Get it?”

“That’s-“

“Okay,” the squirrel interrupted. He picked up an apple and then dropped it on the floor. “That’s a joule’s worth of energy. Imagine a million, million, thousand of those, all falling the same distance, in the same second, impacting the same spot.”

“Pretty crowded spot,” the ram said.

“No not really. That sort of throughput would knock a hole in whatever it hit.”

“And why is this important again?” The same ram, Doug, asked. 

“I think I can harness it. Well not me, alone, but it can be done.”

“We’ve been over this. The Bellweather is not going to let you have your assistants back. Collared or not,” Doug said. 

“Maybe collared?” One of the other rams asked. 

“They can’t think very well with those things on-“ The squirrel started to say, but stopped when Doug raised a paw.

“That would be your problem,” Doug said. “Not that it matters. They stay in jail, but we can find others to help you.” 

 

Half a year passed, and the squirrel tried again. 

“Lady Bellweather, I need my predator assistants. No one else understands. Those sheep that were sent… They spend all day confused, and then they say they understand, but then the next day, I have to go back over everything again.”

“Can you explain it? To me?”

“Probably not. Your background-“

“Try,” the lamb ordered. 

“Of course,” the squirrel replied. He was thinking, ‘clearly the actual gods still hate me.’ He said, “you have to accept certain things that might not make sense. For example, you’ve heard of the butterfly effect?”

“Yes,” she replied, but she looked uncertain.

“Well, we can make the wings flap, or not, by doing certain things here. If we didn’t do those things, wings would, or would not, flap without our control. We control the weather by changing certain variables nearby, and those variables change other variables elsewhere.

“It’s kind of like sympathetic magic. Some people call it hoodoo? You have heard of stabbing a doll, and this causes your target to feel pain?”

“Okay,” the lamb replied. “But that’s mainly psychosomatic. You said you could harness nearly limitless energy, not play with dolls.”

“The example I used is all in the mind, yes, but if it wasn’t all in the mind, and some people think it’s real, the principle would be the same. I think we can collect, store, and then release a vast amount of energy here, and-”. The squirrel paused, obviously searching for the right words. 

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“If I had my original assistants, they could build a working model, and then I could give you a demonstration,” the squirrel replied. 

“If you had the assistants that you had when you started three years ago? Those predators? You could build something that we could use as a super weapon?”

‘Not a superweapon,’ he thought. “Yes my lady. Give us a year. No more.” The squirrel radiated absolute certainty. 

“And that is why it’s a no. We don’t need a super weapon, and we damn well don’t need any biters anywhere near the process,” the Bellweather said. "The biters stay in jail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter, but I felt like I needed it here so I that I could introduce certain things later. I've got several other chapters nearly ready that advance the main plot points. I have Nick and Judy's original meeting and I have Judy's first day back at what I still think of as ZPD, but now it's called PDZ.


	15. Z + 14 Police Department of Zystopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy is out of jail, and this is her first day back to work.

“Well, I guess I did make it back after all,” the rabbit said to herself. The police station was the same, and it was very different. One of the nearby buildings had been leveled and there were scorch marks in the parking area where a bus had been parked. There were not very many parked cars nearby, but there was a squad of soldiers and an armored vehicle.

The city was running again, more or less smoothly. Buses and subways were operating. Not all of them, and service was not great, but they were operating. Or you could get a ride on a large mammal, for a fee. That was new. 

Walking in the front door with her panther guard, Chief Hopps was surprised to see a cheetah at the reception desk. The previous receptionist had been a sloth, and she had not worked out very well. 

The desk was high and communication with the receptionist would be harder if she stayed on the floor, so Judy solved this in her usual way. She jumped up and looked the cheetah in the eye. “Who might you be?” She asked. 

The cheetah had been slouched, but he braced to attention when he saw her rank insignia. “Ma’am? You must be the new chief? I’m Officer Benjamin Clawhauser.”

“Yes. I am Chief Judy Hopps,” she replied. Saying it felt a little strange, but she supposed she would get used to it as she watched various reactions flash across the cheetah’s face. First, it was disbelief, then understanding, and then fear, as he stared fixedly at the knives she still carried on her back. 

She had not been told what to wear. She had been given the stars of a chief, and a guard, and told when she was expected to report. “Where are you from, Officer?”

“Cassandra, ma’am,” the cat replied. “Many new officers arrived yesterday and today from the other cities of the Confederation. There weren’t very many mammals here when I arrived, so I took my usual place here at the reception desk. It’s what I used to do.”

“These other mammals? Where are they?” The rabbit asked. They were not in the lobby where she could see them.

The cheetah’s head turned, and he looked at a set of double doors behind him and to his left. 

Chief Hopps saw him looking at the double doors of the briefing room across the lobby, and said, “thanks. Why don’t you give me a minute and then announce my presence on the public address system?”

“Yes ma’am,” the cat said, looking at the microphone on his desk. It was phrased like a question, but he knew an order when he heard one.

The rabbit patted him on the head, jumped down, and headed for the doors. The panther followed, quietly.

“They didn’t say the new old man was going to be an old lady! And a lagomorph,” Judy heard Officer Clawhauser mutter to himself. She didn’t look back. 

She stopped, and looked a question at the panther beside her, when she reached the doors. 

He extended his paw, and touched the appropriate button at his waist level. In the past, Leftenant Hopps would have jumped up and hit it herself or entered with another, larger, officer, but now she wanted to know what her guard was and was not willing to do. So far, so good. 

“Chief Judy Hopps is in the building,” Clawhouser’s voice said over the public address as she walked into the crowded meeting room. She pretended not to notice conversations stopping and every eye turning to her. There were lions, tigers, and bears as expected, but also otters, squirrels, and even a few Commonwealth rabbits. She gave them a moment to note her blue uniform, with the weapons of a pre-liberation Zystopian officer, and the stars of a post liberation police chief, as she walked to the podium at the front of the room. 

“Attention!” One of the mammals on her left shouted, and everyone stopped talking and stood up, causing some of the chairs to fall over. Clearly, many of these officers were experienced cops drawn from the various Confederation city states, as the cheetah had said. But she also saw a few younger officers looking more afraid than the others. ‘Probably Zystopians fresh from the Academy. The current class must have graduated,’ she thought. ‘They will have much to learn.’

She jumped up on the podium, and turned around. ‘It’s just like leading my team last month. But with more of them.’

“As you were,” she said, projecting her voice to reach every corner of the room, and the blue clad statues shifted slightly. Muzzles and ears turned toward her, and shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I am Chief Hopps. I have been tasked with bringing justice back to Zystopia, and we will do this, one way or another. It’s 0830 hours and we’re all here at PDZ headquarters. I understand you’ve been gathering here for the last two days? What have you been doing?”

She looked around the room, and saw a few officers avoiding her gaze. She pointed to one of these, a squirrel. “What’s your name?”

“Ma’am, I am Officer Nut. We’ve been waiting for you,” he replied.

“And sitting on your tails?” 

“Yes ma’am,” the squirrel replied without thinking and then looked away. His tail had gone up when he answered, but now it was back down again. “The Army keeps order. They don’t seem to need us, so we didn’t know what to do.”

“The Army will not be here forever. We will,” the rabbit said. ‘I hope.’

“We will start by taking part of the burden from them. For now, that means we shadow them. I’ve been assured that the soldiers will cooperate. 

“I can see some officers with whom I have served before, and some of you new officers have some rank. Please see me after this meeting so we can set up duty rosters and make preliminary assignments. 

“I have some announcements,” the chief continued. “This is not the old ZPD; this is now the PDZ, or Police Department of Zystopia, to differentiate us from the previous, extremely corrupt, system. We will be looking at changing our uniforms as well, but I’m not sure how yet. Predators and prey officers will patrol together, but I see that we have more prey than predators, so prey will find a predator officer or will not leave this building, in uniform, alone. 

“Prey will patrol in groups of four, at a minimum. There will never be less than a dozen, armed, officers here, at headquarters, at any time. Predators will carry lethal weapons, but prey, when outside this building, will carry dart guns only. Everyone got your body cameras and voice recorders? Good. You will use them at all times when outside this building, and turn in your memory chips at the end of each shift. Do not lose them! If you do? I’m going to assume you were doing something you didn’t want me to see, and then you and I will have a nice wall to wall counseling session.”

Chief Hopps thought a moment, and then shrugged. “Questions?” 

“Ma’am. Officer Francine,” an elephant in the back said. She didn’t stand up, or need to. “May I ask where you're from?”

“I’m from here, Officer Francine. I’m the highest ranking, active, surviving, officer of the old ZPD.”

“We’ve heard stories about the way things were… Was it really…” The elephant started to ask, but trailed off, as she realized what the rabbit had said, and what it meant.

“Probably like you heard, yes. Predators had pain collars, and prey allowed those collars to be used, usually by the ZPD, at any time, by any officer. Many of the predators are going to resent you for that,” Chief Hopps said. ‘And water is wet,’ she added silently to herself, before continuing aloud. "You're going to have to work to regain their trust."

“For now, this morning anyway, you’re going to be getting organized into shifts and teams, but then you’re going to go out there and find some soldiers to spend your shift with after that, and THEN some of us will do this 0830 thing again tomorrow and the next day and the next. Those who are not on shift will be informed by their shift leaders, who will be expected to attend morning briefings. Dismissed,” the rabbit concluded. Then she jumped down off the podium and left through the nearest door, on her way to see what sort of shape her new office might be in.


	16. Z - 1 Day Nova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There have been hints here, and in "Live by the Sword", about the surprise nature of the attack on Zystopia. This chapter will shed more light on how that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter with Queen Skylar. Not the last one.

“Where is he?”

“My Queen-“ the chief of the royal guard started to reply. He knew why she wanted to know. 

“Where?” The white furred vixen repeated. 

“If your Majesty will follow me?” He replied. He had known the vixen his entire adult life, and the wolf would do absolutely whatever she said, except allow his queen to come to any harm. Today she had been harmed, but not in any way anyone, except the wolf, believed that the wolf could have prevented, and so he would not tell her no. 

“My Majesty will,” the Queen replied, sarcastically. Her scent was angry, and she was not at all pleased about the continued use of her title. 

Ears back and claws out now, and everyone knew that Skylar III had never been comfortable in the palace under even the best conditions. She was not the first born, and she had not expected to rule. Everyone knew that not all royal children were capable of the burden, just as they knew that not all royal children wanted it. 

The law was clear. The first born would rule after the royal parent, male or female, stepped down or was no longer able to rule, usually due to terminal illness or death, but the current monarch might be replaced if she broke the law in such an obvious way that no one could ignore it. Five years ago, Skylar II had indeed broken the law and been removed from power, and so only a royal pardon, from Skylar III, could restore her to the throne unless it was retaken by force. This has happened in the past, but not recently. There were those that whispered about the way Skylar II had been railroaded, and Skylar III had heard those whispers. 

The wolf and the fox went to one of the jail cells in the lowest basement of the palace, and looked in through a small window. They saw another wolf, much younger than the one with the queen. He was sitting, muzzled, and chained hand and foot. He had clearly been beaten recently; there were patches of fur torn out and one eye didn’t seem to be tracking. He wore the remains of a uniform very much like the guards' uniforms.

“Open the door, and then stay out here,” the Queen commanded. She ignored the two wolves guarding the door, and they pretended to be deaf as usual. 

“Your Majesty-“

“He is chained to the floor, and he knows things I want to hear. He may not talk with you in the room,” the vixen said. “Also, don’t listen, and do turn off the recording equipment in case he says something sensitive.”

There was no further argument, so the Queen went in and waited for the door to be shut behind her. The cell had smelled like despair when she entered, but the scent changed to relief as soon as the prisoner saw her. 

‘Damned fool thinks I wasn’t aware of his treatment,’ the Queen thought. 

“Why did you do it?” She asked, as she removed his muzzle. She recoiled as he tried to lick her fingers. 

“For you, my queen! Your sister planned to betray you. As one of her new retainers, I was aware of it, but no one knew when she planned to move and I couldn’t get away, so I could not warn anyone. I acquired a pistol, waited for my chance, and then did what I had to do.” 

“And you hoped to be rewarded?” The vixen replied. 

The prisoner’s scent changed again, and so she had her answer. 

“Have I not ordered, many times, that my sister would not be harmed? Under any circumstances?”

“Yes, but you didn’t know about their plans. They were going to use a coup to cover the launch of the army at one of our neighbors! Everyone knows that our military, and the armies of Cassandra and Mustella, go to full alert during these times. The plotters mean to-“

“Attack Zystopia? Yes, I know,” the Queen said, stalking around the room and circling the prisoner. 

He had been gaining confidence, but now he paused, shocked. 

“You damned fool. I never wanted the throne. My sister was supposed to retake power today, and, like her, I would be ‘banished’ back to my estates, far away, and forbidden contact with any armed retainers. Eventually, if I was humble enough and publicly admitted my mistakes, then I would be allowed back to the palace, so that I might see my sister again. Happily I would have done these things!

“Now? I have to continue to live here, surrounded by guards at all times. I can’t live in peace and I can no longer read every book my sister can find for me, as she used to do, before I had to become Queen. I can’t ever hear her voice again as we discuss the latest court gossip, as we did only a few days ago! I will no longer smell her scent. Because of you!

“Know this. There will be a reward, but you will like it not. My sister was here today because I invited her,” the vixen finished, standing behind the wolf. “And you murdered her.” 

The wolf put his head back and howled. The vixen watched, briefly, and then left the room. The guards closed the door behind her.

“Rearrange his restraints to see that he can’t do himself harm and put the muzzle back on,” she told them. “We may need him alive later.” 

 

An hour passed and there was an announcement on all visual, digital, and audio news services in Nova. ‘Stand by for an announcement from the queen.’

Her image appeared at the appointed time, and then her voice could be heard. “Citizens of Nova and members of the Confederation. It is with great regret that I come to you to tell of the murder of my sister, earlier today, by an agent of a foreign power. Rumors of a coup attempt are false. She did attempt to enter the palace, without permission, but I believe she intended to try to convince me to listen to her continued concerns.” Here the figure on the screen paused, and appeared to wipe a tear from one eye. “All of you know, she has never trusted our Zystopian neighbors or approved of their treatment of our predator brothers and sisters. She believed that war was the only option, and you also know that I disagreed. I believe my sister came here today to try again to convince me that our. That is, that MY, attempts at peace have been, and are being, wasted. The Union controls Zystopia, Zystopia daily commits mammal rights violations, and I have allowed this to continue.

“Today, or as soon as possible, my cabinet will gather, and I will need all my advisers. I will also need the advisers of my sister that I exiled years ago because I, foolishly, disagreed with them. Marshal Reynard? I know you can hear me. Come back to us.”

The broadcast ended, and the news announcers, one deer and one bear, came back on, looking shocked. “That appears to be the entire message. As you saw, it was delivered live, from the palace. Please stay tuned to this channel to find out what we believe it means and which foreign power may have been responsible.”

 

Meanwhile, in the palace, the royal adviser for War used his remote to mute the audio, but not the video, feed from the device on the wall of his crowded meeting room. “Well, I would say it’s pretty clear what her majesty means,” he said, and turned to an aide. “Tell the Field Marshal to Climb Mount Niitaka, and make sure Mustella and Cassandra know.” 

 

Much of the army of Nova waited a hundred miles to the south and west, and that much closer to Zystopia. Whatever she said in public, the Queen knew perfectly well where the Field Marshal was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick will meet Skylar eventually, and there will be some backstory also. 
> 
> Five or six years ago, Skylar II very publicly tried to break a peace treaty, and was "deposed" by her sister, Skylar III. The plan was that Skylar III would rule a few years as an air-headed idealist and convince the Union that the Confederation didn't care about Zystopia,so as to get the Union to let its guard down. And then, on Z Day, Skylar II would return and retake power and launch the war. Unfortunately, not everyone got the word, and one of the soldiers killed Skylar II. Or maybe that soldier really was working for a foreign power?


	17. Z-6 years Zystopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting of Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps in this version of reality.

“Did we lose them?” The well dressed, TAME collared, fox asked, nervously.

‘How should I know?’ The blue uniformed rabbit wondered. Aloud, “I think so. I can’t hear them. Can you smell anything?”

“No,” the fox said, between breaths. Judy figured he would be too terrified to admit it, even if he did smell them, or if he thought he smelled them. Or maybe he was just so far out of his depth that he was in shock? His heart was beating very rapidly and he was panting.

He looked very unlike what he had on TV last week. Most mammals considered him to be a kind of role model for the next generation of predators, and he never failed to extol the many virtues of prey-predator cooperation. ‘See? We can get along,’ his image regularly told anyone watching. 

‘Of course, I’m sure he knows, by now, what getting along really means. He’s a wealthy predator, after all, and there is only one way for a predator in Zystopia to do that,’ Judy thought. ‘Agree with everything the ruling prey mammals tell him.’

They had met only a few hours ago, when Judy, Leftenant Hopps when on duty, had been sent to bring the fox in for questioning in relation to more predators than usual going savage. Chief Sweeney thought some new drug called ‘night howler’ was the cause, and had told Judy they needed to find out if Nick was a supplier. His amusement park was a place that, apparently, celebrated the savage nature of predators, after all, and so he might reasonably be involved.

The fox had cooperated, of course, and readily agreed to come with her back to the station. The fox had entered the back of officer Hopps’ car, she had started driving, and then they had found themselves in the middle of some sort of gang war, or possibly kidnapping or assassination attempt. Leftenant Hopps had seen that the fox was terrified, and so she did not believe this was a rescue attempt. ‘Unless it was arranged by someone else without Mr. Wildes’ knowledge?’ 

They had had to abandon the car about an hour ago, and proceeded on foot. Currently, they were hiding in some sort of large mammal meeting room under a table.

Bears started arriving, more and more, and soon the pair found themselves in the middle of what could only be a bear ‘coming of age’ party. Children didn’t wear control collars, but adults did. Judy had heard about these things, but never seen one. 

The rabbit had found herself fascinated. She knew why all the predators had the things, and she thought she knew why they would willingly accept them. They were biologically predisposed to be savage, but the collars kept their savage natures in check. Judy, as a meek prey mammal, would never need, or allow, anyone to collar her. 

And yet. This fox was collared, whom Judy had never known to be the least bit savage. and most of these bears. And then, the young bear as well. His father put the collar on and his son had laughed, briefly. No strong emotion was accepted by the collar, so the collar turned red and the cub received a shock, and then fell silent. Judy saw the way the cub looked at his father, and then the way the older bear refused to meet his son’s eyes. And then, she saw the way Nick watched the bears, as his own collar blinked yellow. He was very careful not to look at the rabbit, who was a prey mammal with no collar. 

“Mr. Wilde?” Judy asked.

“Let’s get out of here,” he replied as his collar went back to green, and they left.

Outside, Leftenant Hopps called for aid, and the pair were picked up and taken to the police station. 

Later, Judy had heard the amusement park had been closed, and the owner had disappeared. Hopps had asked around, quietly, and been told that Nick Wilde had not been allowed to leave the police station. She knew there would be no trial because foxes don't get trials. There might be bones in the ditch, but there would be no trial, and there was nothing she could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some may recognize my attempt at the scene we saw in the special features. I really did not want to dwell on this too much, so it's relatively short.


	18. Z+8 Francis and Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skipping around in time a bit, to Nick meeting his father again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick was released from prison yesterday [Chapter 6], and we last say his father on Z+6 Days [Chapter 1] with the Field Marshal.

My second day as mayor was much like the first, but with more meetings because I started earlier. It was during one of these meetings that I was reacquainted with the last surviving member of my family.

“Father,” I said, inhaling the almost familiar scent. I could remember it, but there was no associated loyalty. 

“Son,” he replied. We were in his office, and my guards were outside. He moved part way around his desk and stood looking at me, curious. “What? No kiss for your old man?” He asked.

I tried to remember the sort of joy I felt in my father’s presence when I was younger, but today I felt nothing. Just… nothing. 

He waited a moment, aware of my confusion, but probably unaware of the cause. “What is it? You can tell me. If someone hurt you, I can have them punished.”

“Have them punished?“ I asked, and seized that thought like a lifeline. “What good would that do?”

“Punishment sets an example; it keeps others from doing the same thing,” he replied. Now his scent was very confident as he leaned on the edge of his desk, and his ears came forward. “Believe me. It can be very satisfying, to watch an enemy squirm.” 

“So you do care about something,” I said. “Your own power and influence. That’s what you care about.” 

He just looked at me, breathing in my scent for nearly half a minute, no doubt comparing the adult he was meeting today to the child that he remembered. Or possibly to the kit that he thought I was? 

“Boy-” he started to say, but I surprised him by interrupting.

“I am not your boy. Not anymore. That fox is dead, and I replaced him,” I said. Again, my own words surprised me, and apparently surprised him. We just stood staring at each other.

He sighed, and leaned on his desk. “Okay,” he said. “You know I tried to rescue you, right? But you escaped. Apparently the rabbit told you it was an assassination attempt?”

“No, that’s not what she said.” I replied, and turned away. “She, that is, we had no idea what was going on. There was an explosion and gunfire. The car just kind of lurched, and then stopped. There was shooting and shouting. We ran.”

He watched me as I relived that night. The last day of my former self. The day before I started my new life as a prisoner. Before I became whatever I am now. 

“My mammals told me they lost you. I can assure you that the team leader was disciplined very severely.”

“What is it with you and punishing mammals? Saying things like that is supposed to make me feel better?” I asked as I turned back to him. 

“No, I guess not,” he replied. Then he went back all the way behind his desk, and sat down. “This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. Things to be.”

Not sure what to say, I waited, but he said nothing. I said, “you should not have left.”

“I had work to do,” he replied. “It was important.”

“Yes,” I said. “More important than mom and I. Now, you have this nice office.” 

“At least I got you out of jail,” he pointed out.

“But Captain Char was not your mammal. I know because he didn’t bring me here. His mammals brought me to the field marshal, but I suppose the marshal got my name from you, so, thanks for that,” I replied, and inclined my head, slightly. Again, I search my feelings for some sliver of gratitude, or something, but I still felt nothing. 

“I thought you were dead. Mom said you were, probably so I would stop asking about you. I believed her because most of my friends’ dads were gone, so it seemed normal. Later, much later, I realized what you must have been doing. The prison guards asked me about you, but I didn’t know anything. No doubt as you intended, but they didn’t believe me.”

“Their not knowing about me kept you alive,” he said. “Now, you’re the mayor of Zystopia. I can’t tell you how proud I am.” He didn’t look particularly proud, with his ears canted oddly. Also, he wouldn’t meet my eyes, and he smelled uncertain. 

“OK,” I replied, and he touched a button on his desk. 

The door opened, and my guards, John and Edward, came back in. “Sir?” John asked me. 

I looked at my father. He made a kind of waving motion with a paw, so my guards and I left. 

In the car, on the way to another meeting, I began to wonder. Did he get me out of jail because he thought he could control me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick is just recently out of jail, and so he's still somewhat confused.


	19. Z+13 Days Nick and Francis Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick meets his father for the second time after getting out of jail, and they talk about Judy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We last saw Francis Wilde, Nick's father, in the previous chapter, and, before that, in Chapter 1.

The second time I saw my father in his office was much like the first. However, this time I felt less numb, and more angry.

“A rabbit?” He asked. “As police chief? That’s stupid. Didn’t I raise you better than that?”

“Yes, a rabbit, and no, you didn’t raise me,” I replied. 

He snorted, taking my scent, but not backing down. I’ve done some research and I know he thinks of himself as a killer like my friend Finn, but my father isn’t a killer, not really. He employs killers, but he himself never gets his hands dirty.

“Fine. Point taken. But why a rabbit?” He asked, genuinely curious. As his son, he was clearly willing to allow me to question his decisions in a way others could not, but this apparently more reasonable tone probably didn’t indicate any sort of move toward agreement with my decision.

“The city needs someone experienced, and local. Like me. Also, as a rabbit, the Protectorate and the Commonwealth-“

“Don’t give me that! I don’t give a flock what those brainless carrot munchers think! They have no army, so they don’t matter.”

“They don’t have an army, and yes, some rabbits may act, or may be, brainless, but many are not,” I pointed out. “And they are many. We know that Hopps is one of the good ones.”

“There are no good ones!”

“There must be. I cannot accept any other option.”

“You are very naïve,” he replied, amused. 

“Well, that makes sense. The fox you see is less than six years old,” I replied. I had been thinking about this idea for several days, and I had wondered what it felt like to say it? 

“Again with that? Do you think you can just erase the past, and re-invent yourself?”

“Why not? You did it to yourself, the prey did it to me, and then somebody re-invented me again while I was in jail. ‘Champion of the common mammal’? That was never me, not really,” I reminded him. 

“Mammals need a symbol,” he replied. 

“So, you gave them your son?” But it made sense. I was in jail, and so there was no way anyone would ever see the truth because no one would actually meet me if there was no liberation. But then the liberation came, and he got his chance, for some field testing. 

"Well, this has been fun, but I've got things to do," I told him, and took my leave.


	20. Z+15 days 1 Mayor's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day for Nick Wilde, and another unexpected house guest.

“It’s time to wake up sir,” James tells me, so I open my eyes and wake up. Or I think I do. My life, these past two weeks, has been so unreal that I can’t help wondering. Maybe I am still in prison, drooling on the floor?

“There is a young vixen here to see you.”

“Right,” I reply, and he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

I’m already in the bathroom, and now I’m awake, so I take care of my usual morning rituals. This room is immediately adjacent to what is supposed to be my bedroom because it’s got a huge bed that I no longer know what to do with, and so normally I would simply walk out into the bedroom and get dressed. Not today, apparently, or not immediately. 

James, and a new scent, stop me after I open the bathroom door. “You might want to wear at least a towel, sir.”

I don't bother to wonder why. I just wrap a towel around myself and step out into the bedroom. There is, indeed, a vixen waiting for me. I turn back to James and ask, “so, she’s here, and not downstairs as I had expected?”

“Yes Sir,” he replies. “Marshal Reynard sent her, and, as you can see, she's not armed.”

Oh, of course. “That will be all, James.”

He leaves, and closes the other door behind him. The vixen and I look at each other. She’s in the bed, mostly covered by a sheet.

Again, I wonder if I’m dreaming? Aren’t I supposed to be a bear in this fairy tale? And younger I suppose? And her fur should be yellow, or at least gold colored, but it's red, orange, and white, like mine. 

“Good morning, Nick,” she says, inhaling. She re-positions herself, and lets the sheet fall further down so I can see she more of what she's not wearing. I’m getting a very clear scent message from her.

“Good morning,” I reply, ignoring that message. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“They call me Candace, and I would think it’s obvious what I’m doing here. I am in your bed, even if you don’t actually use it,” she replies, and makes a show of taking my scent again. “I thought about knocking, but I wasn't sure how much you had had to drink last night. Or what horrible thing you might have eaten, for that matter.”

“Oh, well, you know, the floor in there is easier to sleep on,” I say, and turn away. I can feel her eyes on my back and my tail, and I have to remind myself that my privacy is just an illusion anyway. I’ve got guards with me more or less all the time when I’m outside this house and doing my 'I'm the mayor' thing, and James wakes me up every morning. Now, I'm not sure what else to do, so I get dressed. 

She waits until I turn back around before asking, “why didn’t you join me?” She sounds genuinely curious, and there is no sense of anger or disappointment in her words or scent. Her ears are forward and focused on me, and she's got her feet pulled back up under her.

Why didn’t I? “Like in the movies? You’re some sort of fem fatale and I’m…. well, I’m the Mayor of Zystopia, so, I suppose we should be hooked up right now. Of course, in those stories, you’d have to kill me to get my secret codes or to stop me from doing something or other.”

“No, not like the movies. I asked because the Nickolas Wilde we all knew used to be quite the lady killer,” she replies. 

We? “That’s not me anymore. This, this, is just me going through the motions of whatever it is,” I tell her, making a vague paw motion. I’m not sure why, but I’m finding her to be very easy to talk to. “So maybe what I do doesn’t really matter anyway?” I don't believe that, of course, but I don't like to think about the sort of things I will have to do in the next six months or so after the Union finally gets around to responding. The Viceroy can't keep his army, or all of it anyway, here forever. 

She doesn’t reply, but her scent is now showing disappointment. “Marshal Reynard sent you?” I ask. 

“Yes, that’s right. Do you know what day this is?”

“Saturday?”

“It’s your birthday, Nick,” she replies. “Or anyway, that’s what I was told. What would you like to do?”

“So he sent you as a surprise gift for the fox who has nearly everything. Cars I don’t drive. Dozens of rooms in this house that I don’t use. Lots of people I’ve never met who claim to be my friends. Only one relative left, and he’s,” but I stop and change the subject before saying anything more about that. “Anyway, I doubt I have time-“

“I’m on your schedule this morning. Two hours. ‘Meeting with Candace,’” she says.

“Yeah. I never see that thing. I go where my driver takes me,” I reply. “That’s what I do. Is this what do you do for a living?”

“You mean sitting in bed watching males get dressed and then talking to them about their schedules? Sometimes there is less talking, but I don’t mind. Work is work, you know?”

I wonder what that means, but I don’t want to ask, ‘so, usually you just have sex with them?’ That would seem, to me anyway, to be very impolite. I know they do things differently in the Confederation, but I’ve never met an actual escort before so I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. She probably won't be punished for failing to physically seduce me, but I have to wonder if she'll ask me to give her a 'star' rating later? She's very attractive, so I guess I'd have to go up to at least- 

“Those scars. How did you get them?” She asks, interrupting my chain of thought. 

"Oh, well, you see....."

 

Two hours later, I’m downstairs with James, having breakfast.

“So, who else am I meeting today? Are there any more surprises?” I ask him. I’m sure he can tell how annoyed I am, but his reply gives no indication.

“You’ve got meetings with the head of technology, Dr. Glover, the chief of police, Judy Hopps, and the leader of Bunny Borough, Jack Savage,” he replied. “Also, I believe you wanted to see one of the trials?”

“So, lots to do. Oh, joy.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies. "More fish?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several chapters will follow this one and take place later today. No more skipping around for at least a little while.


	21. Z+15 days 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick's first visit today. The smart squirrel and his friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last time we saw this squirrel, he was talking to Bellweather about a superweapon.

We’re past the outer security checkpoint, but barely out of the car when we’re greeted by a squirrel. 

“Welcome, welcome! So glad you could make it!” He says, practically bouncing. “I’m Dr. Groves, and this is my facility. I’m so glad your father gave me this opportunity!”

It doesn’t look very impressive from the outside, but then, we don’t really want anyone to know what it’s for. Apparently, it’s just a big administration building on the grounds of what was a community college a few weeks ago. Some members of the faculty are still employed, but not doing quite the same jobs. 

“What do you have here?” I ask, as my guards look around. 

“Well,” the squirrel replies. “I’ve got a Pawpoint presentation and then-“

“No Pawpoint. I’ve seen WAY too many of those in the last week. I’m quite sick of them. Just… Show us around inside, OK?”

“OK,” he says, and gets out of the way as a door opens automatically. John goes in first to make sure no crazed assassins are waiting. There aren’t any, so the rest of us follow. Edward brings up the rear. 

There seems to be machines and equipment, or pieces of equipment, everywhere, and I recognize very little of it. 

The squirrel, however, looks rather like a kit in a candy store as he bustles around, talking to various mammals working on somethings or others in the main hall. He’s mainly interested in the activities of several predators that have a certain look that I recognize. They’ve been locked up until recently. 

“So, what are you doing?”

“Lord-“ He starts to say, and I can tell he’s trying to decide if he needs to address me on his knees. 

“Please don’t,” I tell him. “Just Mr. Mayor, OK? We can try talking like two professionals. You’re the technical expert and I’m the mammal that doesn’t understand it.”

“Right, sorry,” he replies and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. “We can, with more time and resources, give you a weapon to make Zystopian the foremost nation in the world.”

“Some sort of super weapon?” I ask, but I can see a kind of hesitation in him. He really doesn’t want to build a weapon. He want to play with his friends and his toys, and now he’s looking at me rather like it’s past his bedtime and I’m his parent. 

“Yes. We have a way to use our weather control system to tap into the power of hurricanes out in the Central Ocean, store that power in a relatively small space here, and then release it somewhere else all at once, or, gradually. Focusing such force would result in what you would probably think of as a ‘blaster’.”

“So, you’re telling me that you have figured out how to weaponize the weather. But why do you think I want a blaster?” 

“Well, yes.” The squirrel replied, surprised. “And who doesn’t want a blaster? The previous administration-“

“Let me ask you this. Can you extend the Zystopian weather control to surrounding areas?”

“Well…. Sure. I guess,” he said. He looks confused, but he smells relieved. Probably because I didn't ask him to build a death ray. 

“Don’t act too relieved. We are going to need better weapons also, but mainly defensive. I’m not sure exactly what, so I am going to have some military people make your acquaintance, and then you and I will speak again. You can talk to them, right?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. This time, his scent is less uncertain and more determined. 

“So, what is this stuff and how did it end up here, anyway?”

“Oh, well, there were various machines already here, and we acquired a fighting vehicle recently when the drive train failed nearby. We look for ways to improve things,” he replies, and gestures. I recognize some of the equipment. That long thing was the main gun system from one of our tanks, but the recoil system looks very strange, and there are various other pieces scattered around.

“Ah. Very good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Union is going to want the City back, and the Confederation Army can't stay forever. I want some sort of excuse for Zystopia to hold out for longer than the time it takes for the Union Army to show up and demand surrender, so Zystopia needs some sort of ace [or aces] in the hole.


	22. Z+15 days 3 Nick and Judy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicks second official meeting today is with the Chief of Police, Judy Hopps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When last we saw Judy, she was giving instructions to her officers.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Chief Judy Hopps turns to look at me, no doubt wondering how serious I am. She knows that my past experiences here have not been positive and she knows why. Her guard, a large panther, pretends to ignore me. 

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to my officers. The ones that are here at the moment, anyway,” she says, instead of whatever she had been thinking. 

After the introductions, I know that her people are doing well. Morale is favorable, so she’s doing a good job, and the city needs her to continue. I want her to continue. However, she doesn’t sound, or smell, like continuing anything is high on her priority list.

“How are you doing, Judy?” 

The question surprises her. “I’m fine,” she replies automatically. She’s lying, but I don’t want to call her on it. She’s clearly not getting enough sleep.

"Would you mind if we spoke privately?" I ask, and she leads the way to her office without comment, and closes the door, leaving our guards outside. As police chief, all the cops are her guards, technically, and I’m sure it was no accident that I met them this morning. It was a reminder that I don’t have as many mammals. 

I’ve never seen the office of the police chief. Last time I was here, in the building, Judy was still in jail. In my previous life, I came to police headquarters only one time, and I didn’t see the chief.

The office, and much of the furniture, were obviously designed for a larger mammal. The huge desk is the same, but the chairs are different. We can see each other clearly across the wide expanse of desktop. There are no mementos. No pictures of her or her loved ones. I know that her assets were seized when the Confederation Army entered the city, so she may not have any mementos. 

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Mayor?” she asked. “If you think for one moment that I’m going to let you lecture me about how to do my job-“

What? She’s being very formal, somewhat candid, and mostly angry, so I reply the same way. “I’m not going to tell you how to do your job. I'm getting a definite ‘my job sucks’ vibe from you. Why is that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replies. “Your father was very clear about my alternatives. Do this, and live longer. Decline and die.”

“Yes? That’s what he said? Well, I can’t say I like him very much, but the Viceroy trusts him more than he trusts me, so I’m not sure what I can do about it.”

“And that’s it? He threatens to have me killed and you just make excuses? And here I was thinking that we were bosom buddies,” she replies. Ears back, eyes angry, and leaning forward. I doubt I’ll see her knife blades, but she may order me out of the building.

“We are all of us expendable, Chief. Currently, I can’t stop Francis from doing many of the things he does. I did stop him from simply having you killed,” I replied. “You do know that if it were up to him all rabbits would be stew? Especially police rabbits.”

Now she looked uncertain, ears more forward and eyes looking away. 

“This job saved your life,” I added. 

“I hope you don’t expect my gratitude?” She asks. 

“No, not anymore. I do expect you to realize the benefits of a partnership with me. Or with the mayor, if you prefer to think of it that way. As long as I’m the mayor, then Francis isn’t, and he can’t install a puppet.”

She nods, and asks, “how did you get the job?”

“My father recommended me to the field marshal, and then I had a brief job interview a few hours after my release from prison. Also, I’m a fox like him and his queen, I’m from here, and I’m relatively well known locally,” I reply. “Like nearly everyone else, the Marshal probably thought I would be his puppet.”

“Are you?” she asks, and I shrug. Now she’s sitting back in her chair, and her scent is far more calm. 

“Everyone needs a patron,” I reply. “You’ve got your people shadowing the Army?” 

“That’s right. Mammals need to get used to seeing police mammals again. The Army keeps order, so we’ll borrow some of their credit. Maybe the citizens will start to trust us sooner this way.”

“That makes sense. And the parking tickets? I don’t think mammals are going to like those.”

She only nods. Traffic control has always been a police function, but it’s more important now for several reasons. First, it’s a reminder that the laws still apply to everyone, predator and prey. Second, it’s a useful revenue stream for the PDZ during this time of rebuilding. The Army is getting most of the City’s money. 

Mammals used to shout and make threats when they got a parking ticket. Now, they just pay up. They know that failure to pay will lead to loss of the vehicle, and the cops don’t go out solo to issue tickets anymore. They don’t do solo anything. 

Another change involves a change to the prosecution of moving violations and the meaning of the phrase 'hot pursuit'. PDZ cops don’t chase anyone anymore. They radio the mammals at the next control point, and those guys take care of the problem. The solution often involves machine gun fire, and so there aren’t many mammals willing to break traffic regulations. Not more than once, anyway. 

“I’d also like to ask you about providing security for my house.”

“Why? Too many groupies?” She asks. Ears up now, and head tilted to the side.

“No, but I recently realized that I’m the symbol of the new regime, and not everyone likes it. You know what I mean?”

“We’ll see,” she replies. I guess she’s still annoyed about the 'expendable' comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that Nick has had several unexpected house guests. First it was Finn and those Gestapo cats, and then, this morning, it was Candace. I'm working on a story during which he meets one of the former residents of the house.


	23. Z+15 days 4 Nick and Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends and influencing mammals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first we've seen of Jack.

“Good evening, your honor,” the receptionist says. My guards and I are meeting Jack Savage at his office, and what I think of as his embassy. Not that Bunny Borough has an embassy, or an ambassador, but I may be able to change that in the near future. “Mr. Savage will be right with you.”

“Wilde! How the hell are you?” The rabbit asked after he appeared, having rolled his chair out of his office. His frame is smaller than Judy’s, but talking to him, I’m always reminded of a bigger mammal. “Come on back to my office with me.”

I look at John, and he nods before seating himself. VIPs all have guards, but there is the careful kind of etiquette involved in interacting with other VIPs. I could have insisted that John accompany me, but that would have been an insult, and I want Savage, and Bunny Borough, to be a friend to Zystopia in general, and to me in particular. Jack knows this, and is clearly going to take note of every nuance, but also clearly, if carefully, not mention any of it. This is how the game is played.

In his office, he offers refreshment, and then starts what must be the negotiation of status between our cities. Or anyway, the city of Zystopia and the protectorate of Bunny Borough. He knows that I can’t make a final decision without consulting the Viceroy, and others, but he also knows that I’m the one that’s here, and so my opinion will have weight.

“The Commonwealth has been favorably impressed by your retention of Judy Hopps on the police force, and James Hopper in the Army. In fact, both have been promoted," he begins, gesturing with his arms for emphasis. 

"I know many of your advisors,” and here he pauses so I know he knows which ones, or he thinks he does, “don’t like rabbits much. Only good for multiplying and trying to take jobs away from honest, hard working Zystopians, and all that.” 

“You know I don’t believe that anymore. Hell, I didn’t even believe it when I said it,” I reply. I’ll ignore the ‘Commonwealth’ thing as a sign that he can call BB whatever he likes, and I won’t argue. Again, he’s going to know that others might disagree. 

“Yes. And even before your incarceration, you tended to stay away from antagonizing anyone or any group if you could. You even pretended to like sheep.”

“Didn’t everybody?” I reply, somewhat unnecessarily. 

“Indeed,” he replied, and laughs. In Zystopia, before the liberation, you either liked sheep, pretended really hard to like sheep, or you went to jail. I did two of those. 

I feel like he's pushing to keep me as off balance, and therefore as candid, as possible, so I shift the conversation to matters more personal to him. I remember him from before I went to jail, and I did some research recently. 

“Not much choice about the sheep, even if my acting didn’t do my much good at the end.” He nods and I continue, “would you care to tell me how you made the transition from movie star to this?”

“The jobs are very similar, you know? Of course you do. You used to do it. ‘Stand here. Smile. No teeth. Say this, not that.’ Etc. etc.” He replies easily. “I convinced the Bellweather that I would agree with everything she said and not push for more for me or my people, so she let me have this nice office. It helped that I didn’t have sharp teeth.”

“And now, here you are,” I remind him. His answer didn't surprise me, of course. 

“I would say here we are, but I understand your point,” he says. “So. What does Nick Wilde want? Or what does Zystopia want and what can you give us in exchange?”

“We can offer stability. Security….” 

“And?” He asks, sounding almost bored. He's got his paws back in his lap now, waiting. 

“Well, I’d like a mutual defense arrangement, and Zystopia needs workers to replace those citizens killed in the recent unpleasantness. As for what I can offer? How about increased immigration quotas? And, based on a meeting I had earlier today, good weather for our friends nearby, year round.”

“Hmmmmm. Tell me more…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, this is another brick in the wall of Nick's increasing authority as mayor. Most everyone thought he would be a puppet, but he wants to actually lead, now that he's been given a chance.
> 
> And, yes, I changed the name and moved the Hopper and Centurian Wolfson chapters out of this story and into a separate one. I realized this thing is getting bigger than the expected half dozen chapters, and so I had to re-arrange a few things.


	24. Up on the Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is trying to give a speech when he's interrupted.

“Sir? There’s something you should know,” Edward says as I prepare to climb the stairs onto the stage. 

“Can it wait?” I ask. I’m pretty sure it can’t because he and John never call me sir unless it’s something they think is extremely important, and, usually, something I’m not going to like. I really wish they wouldn’t call me that. 

I've been mayor about three weeks, and I've given half a dozen speeches so far, usually at places like this one. That is, a large auditorium like this, but in different parts of the City. I'm always up on a stage, out of reach in case anyone in the audience tries to stab me, and there are predators and prey watching and listening here and presumably, at homes as well. I always come out from one side, behind some curtains, like the showman I used to be. 

He shakes his head. “I know the panther assigned as Judy’s guard. His name is Manchas, and we used to be friends. I might be able to talk to him.”

“OK. Thanks,” I reply. He nods, and then I put it out of my mind as I prepare to face the crowd. 

They grow quieter, mostly silent, as usual, when I appear, but there are still mammals out there talking to each other and some are holding up cell phones. I try to make my speeches as entertaining as I can and, at the end, I always take questions and answer as truthfully as possible. I’m being treated like something rare, and possibly precious. I’m the first fox mayor in several hundred years. No doubt some of them have been waiting for me to crack under the pressure, but I won’t. Not again. 

“Good morning,“ I like to start with a joke. “What do you call a three-“ I was saying when I heard the sound, which was loud in the auditorium. The crowd went silent, suddenly, and I turned to look, but stumbled. I had been shot?

I caught myself on the podium with one paw, and put the other to my side. I’ve never been shot before, but my body is used to various forms of trauma. Blunt trauma, sharp trauma, burns, ligature…. Pretty much anything I suppose. 

I looked at my paw and saw the blood. The bullet went through my side, below the level of my chest armor. Armor that I didn’t think I needed, but John and Edward had insisted. In the end, we compromised on just enough armor to protect my chest, but the bullet has passed through the side of my belly. I found that I could stay on my feet without much difficulty. 

“Boss? Are you okay?” John asked. Edward was nearby, with a communication device to his muzzle. Talking to somebody. 

“They got him,” he said.

“Bring him. Here. To me,” I replied, pointing to a spot between me and the audience. I felt curious. The microphone was still on, so my words had a kind of ominous echo. “And don’t hurt him. Or her?”

They did. That is, they brought him. It was a young deer, a buck, and one of the blue uniform cops had the deer’s weapon and mask. The weapon was some sort of cheap tubing, probably assembled in a garage, and not a rifle at all. It’s a wonder he even hit me. The bullets are probably spherical, like some sort of paintballs.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. With a cop on each arm, and each one larger than him, it was hard for him to appear defiant, but he tried. I could not hear him over the renewed noise of the crowd. The sound of the shot had only silenced them briefly. “You think I hurt you? Or that my kind hurt your kind?” I asked the youngster. I wanted to know, but I couldn’t, didn’t really want to, get much closer to him. 

Now I saw him shouting, but could not understand the words. I put a paw to my ear, and some members of the crowd laughed. 

“Says you killed his father,” one of the bystanders closer to me shouted toward me. I don’t know if that’s what the deer said or not, but he seemed to be nodding his head. 

“I don’t remember doing that,” I replied. “I didn’t do that.”

More gestures, and then, “he says you’re living in his family’s house.”

“Your house?” Oh right. It wasn’t my house, or my idea to live there, but I was kind of stuck with it. “It’s where they took me after they got me out of jail. I was told that they found the skin of an adult male bear in one of the bedrooms. On the floor. So they arrested your parents. Apparently, they enjoyed copulating on it? Or at least one of them, the mistress, or whatever.”

The deer glared at me now, and then he said something that I didn’t catch. The cops, one of them a bear, stiffened, and both failed to react when a buffalo in the crowd struck the deer in the face. Teeth flew as the deer sagged.

“What did he say?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea. 

“Says he used the rug, too,” the bear replied. 

“Don’t kill him,” I heard my voice say. "He wants to die. Don't give him that."

The cops nodded, and carried the unconscious deer away. 

"And maybe I need a doctor...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written them out yet, but I have some speeches in mind. Imagine the Gettysburg address, but modified? "A thousand years ago, our founding fathers and mothers brought forth a new nation, here in this place, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all mammals are created equal....."


	25. To the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nickolas Wilde tries to get help after being shot, but trouble seems to follow where ever he goes

“And that includes our show this evening. Concludes our show. Please come back another time, after I’ve had some stitches and bandages, and we can continue,” I told the audience.

They murmured among themselves and milled around. Having been shot ended the show, in my opinion, but it was still early and the crowd didn’t want to leave. 

“Please proceed in an orderly fashion-“ I started to say, but one of the blue uniformed cops got up on stage and motioned me back. This sort of thing is their job after all, so I got out of their way.

“Please proceed to the nearest exit,” he told them. We had not been introduced, but his name tag said Wolfson. He then repeated his instructions and pointed to the various exits. 

Having backed away from the microphone, I turned to my right, and saw John motioning to me from behind the curtains, so I walked toward him. When I reached him, outside of the view of the audience, he gestured, and then I pulled up my shirt to give him a better look at the wound. There was blood partway down my pants, also. 

“Take a picture why don’t you?” I suggested. “Some sort of keepsake for the children.”

“Okay boss,” he said. He flicked his ears and then he did take a picture of my injury. “We can show this to a doctor maybe?”

“Maybe. I guess we’re going to go see one?” I suggested. I wasn’t really in much pain, but I was bleeding, at least a little. “Or you could get me a needle and some thread?”

He ignored my suggestion. “The nearest predator hospital is-“

“No. Take me to the nearest hospital, predator or prey. We’ll use a normal emergency room like normal mammals,” I told them. “Mammals need an example to show them we’re serious about this equality business, and that example is me.” 

“Fine,” he replied, and started talking into his radio again. I could see he didn’t really agree with me.

I had not noticed it before, but my entourage had been growing steadily over the last week. I still had John and Edward, but now I also have, apparently, half a dozen other mammals. Drivers, go-fers, security and crowd control animals. Everywhere I looked, there were mammals looking back at me, waiting for my decisions.

I wonder how the field marshal will react to this? I may get to see that armored personnel carrier again, and lose my limousine. 

 

We soon found ourselves at Superstar Hospital, which I thought was an odd name until I remembered that there had been a motion picture studio nearby. I don’t know what happened to it. Apparently, it was another of those things that changed while I was in jail. 

John, Edward, and I, two wolves and a fox, came in through the sliding doors of the emergency room as I intended, and were directed to a curtained off bed after the receptionist saw the blood. The other mammals of my entourage went to the VIP section because I really didn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

“Now I really do think we need to be in the VIP section.” John observed. “I don’t like how easily another loonie with a gun could find you here. Curtains make poor armor.”

“Yes, but the loonies will be expecting to see me in the VIP section right?” I asked. Also, I don’t like to think of myself as a VIP, and I do like to think I have at least some contact with the common mammal. At least some idea what they think and what they want. I don’t think I can get that if I’m isolated from them.

Instead of answering me directly, John looked at Edward and said, “have a look around.”

Edward nodded and left.

“Just talking to myself,” I muttered.

John started to reply, but stopped when he heard voices outside our curtained area.

“-Heard they brought the fox mayor here for treatment of a gun shot wound,” one of them said.

“Where did they put him?” The second voice asked.

“VIP section, where else?” The first voice again.

I smirked at John, but he tapped his ear, so I shrugged and went back to listening. 

“Fox as Mayor. I never thought I’d see the day,” second voice said, sounding thoughtful, and not at all upset. I grinned, but only briefly.

“Dumb pelt got what he deserved. Too bad they missed his head,” a third voice said. The other two were silent, so I stared at John, and made a hand signal for ‘who was that?’ He stared back, clearly not sure what I meant. 

The curtain was jerked back, and the third speaker said, “what we have here? One of you buggered the other while drunk?”

It was a male deer, a buck, like the one that shot me, but older. He smelled like anger and fear, but I saw no family resemblance. He was apparently some kind of orderly or nurse. I couldn’t tell which. 

“Somebody shot me,” I told him, getting my elbows under me. I motioned to John to remind him to go easy. Don’t provoke this guy. I wanted to see what else he might say.

The buck glanced back at John, briefly, and then pushed me down and grabbed my shirt, forcing it up enough to see the wound, which started bleeding again. The buck turned to John, and said, “get lost, hairball. Visiting hours are over.”

Then the deer turned back to me, and froze. John had one of his fighting knives over the buck’s shoulder and under his chin from behind. 

“I think you can make an exception for me. Just this once,” he said. 

“Who do you think you are?” The buck asked. He was trying to sound defiant, but I could no longer smell anger. Just fear. 

"Call me Mr. Hairball, if you like, but you're going to be a good little hospital employee and take care of my friend here without the social commentary,OK?" John suggested.

Then I looked out the opening in the curtain and saw the other two orderlies and Edward. The orderlies were frozen where they stood. Edward walked toward me, between them. 

“Want to call the field marshal?” he asked. “Or at least the PDZ? I think we do need to move you to the VIP section after all.” 

 

The three of us then took the elevator upstairs as I held another bandage to my side. I was really getting tired of wandering around bleeding, but this time it was my own fault. 

The door opened, a wolf in combat armor started to delay us, and then waved us through. It was Lonnie, one of the Marshal’s guards, so I knew that Reynard wasn’t far away. 

The Marshal didn’t look surprised to see me. “How have you been, Nickolas?” He asked, and then motioned to one of his aides. “Get him a needle, some rubbing alcohol, and thread.”

“Sir.”

They brought what I needed, and so I sat and worked on my side while the Marshal spoke. 

“I heard you had some excitement downstairs. Some orderly being stupid?”

“No big deal, sir. Just a bigot. Dime a dozen,” I replied, trying to focus on what I was doing. I noticed that both John and Edward were giving us plenty of room, so apparently this was more than just a social visit. 

“Not a dime a dozen, no. Worthless, actually,” Reynard replied. Later, I found out that the orderly was given a quick trial, and then shot for committing a hate crime. That wasn't what I wanted, but it was already done by the time I found out.

“So, I brought you fresh clothes,” he continued. Ears and body language leaning somewhat forward. His scent was anticipatory. 

“Thanks,” I replied, but I didn't ask about that because I knew he wasn’t done yet.

He shrugged. “I’m thinking you need to meet the Queen,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, but I knew. I only wondered why she waited this long to meet the Marshal’s choice. The injury would probably be seen, in Nova, as an assassination attempt, and the logical assumption would be that time might be short. Who knew when some other lunatic would try something, and maybe with different results. 

“Because she asked for you, and I’m not in the habit of telling her ‘no’. You'll want to get changed. The plane leaves in two hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was thinking, this story has become mostly about Nick Wilde, but then, I enjoy writing about him.


	26. Out of Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is off to see the wizard, but not everything goes according to plan.

I have stopped being surprised by what each new day brings, but just sort of take things as they come. Make a speech, get shot, go to a hospital, and then get put on a plane for Nova. Now I find myself missing the predictability of my previous life in the jail cell, just a little. A very little. 

This afternoon, the Field Marshal and I are on a plane, north-east bound for Nova, so I can meet the Queen, Skylar III. We left John and Andrew behind in Zystopia. They’ve been with me every step of the way so far, so they can probably do at least a fair imitation of running the city while the Marshal and I are out of town. 

The plane is mostly empty, but I sit near the Marshal and try several times to engage him in conversation to find out whatever it was that I needed to know before arriving. His scent is angry, and he’s focused on reading or writing on his computer. I had given up when he does, finally, address me. 

“Nicholas. I’m going to tell you something, and you’re just going to listen. Do not interrupt me. When I’m done, I’d like you to move to a different part of the plane and think about my words. Later, after we’ve landed and see each other again, or, more likely, on the way back, we can discuss if you like.”

I nodded, accepting his terms, and he continued. 

“My army currently rules Zystopia in the name of my queen, and you’re the mayor because I say you are. You’re doing a good job, so you can continue, unless the queen doesn’t like you. 

“As you know, my army must depart eventually, but you probably don’t know when or precisely why. The when is sometime in the next several months; maybe a matter of weeks. The why is the Union massing an army to launch an attack directly against the Confederation, and not against Zystopia as we had expected. This won’t happen tomorrow, but my army and I will be vastly outnumbered when it does. They, the Union, probably expect the prey majority to rise up against the predatory, minority, oppressors and so they probably won’t expect an actual fight for the city after the fall of the Confederation.”

Again, I nodded, saying nothing, and prepared to get up. He raised a paw, so I paused.

“I blame you, and the other Zystopians for what may happen to my home. I know I shouldn’t because you never asked for any of this, but I do blame you,” he said. Then he added, quietly, “And I am very angry about that.” Then he went back to reading his screen, ignoring me again, and typing in comments on whatever document he’s reviewing, so I get up and walk down the aisle to another area with empty seats. 

Zystopia would be spared, at lease in the short term, but someone would have to pay. No one would have had to pay if only the Confederation had not started this war, but then I would still be in jail. I spent the rest of the trip thinking about ways to increase the speed of the readiness of Zystopia's own armed forces.

 

Our destination is a matriarchy, and a monarchy, and that's about all I know. I heard that the queen, Skylar III, gave a speech the day before Z Day, when the war began, but I was in jail at the time and so I didn’t hear it. The attack was apparently a complete surprise to the Union.

The plane landed, and I was directed to a different terminal than the one that took the Marshal after we disembarked. He looked at me, and kind of nodded, and that was the last I saw of him that day. 

The palace, after the short trip from the military air field, was about what I expected. Huge. Fortified. Full of costumed mammals that don’t seem to do much. I am met by a guide. 

“This way, Mr. Wilde,” he says, after our introductions. He’s a squirrel, and his name is Dave, but I expect he doesn’t think I remember that with all the other new information I’m getting. I follow along, knowing I could easily get lost in here. Life in a 10 x 10 cell is not good for anyone’s long-distance spatial awareness or sense of direction. 

Dave and I stop in front of a set of very impressive doors with two armed guards. Only members of the royal family have armed guards here in the palace, and these two are lions. 

“Mr. Wilde to see the Chancellor,” Dave tells the lions. Clearly, he will not be joining me, and clearly, I will not be meeting the Queen yet.

One of the lions taps on one of the doors with the butt end of a spear, and then the two of them open both doors. There are no automatics here, apparently.

Inside, I’m struck, first, by the size of the room. Huge. Second, there is a kind of correctness about the location of every single item, but the mammals here are gathered mostly at the far end. Third, there are no scents. Outside, I could smell the lions’ boredom and Dave’s eagerness. Here, there is just moving air. Maybe a very faint smell of dust?

“I am Ronin. The Queen has been called out of town, and so she will not be meeting you at this time. Please accept our hospitality until she returns tomorrow,” one of the mammals in the room says. He’s a wolf, and well dressed, so I assume he might be the Chancellor. Most of the mammals here are predator, but some are prey. Some are obviously guards. Some might be ministers of various things, or advisers about something or other.

“Thanks,” I replied, and made a kind of half bow. I really do not know how to address this person.

He waved a hand. “No need for bowing and scraping. Not for me!” He says. “Have a seat. I’d like to ask some questions, and then you may rejoin Dave in the hallway. He will show you to the dining areas and then to your rooms.”

 

I find myself staying in the palace overnight, thinking about my trip so far. 

I expected to be part of some sort of receiving line, just one more foreigner getting some face time with the most powerful of the several Confederation monarchs. Of course, I had hoped to meet her more informally, and make some sort of show of my gratitude. My very genuine gratitude, especially after what the Marshall had had to say. I guess I’ll meet her tomorrow.

Around 10 PM I get a visitor. It’s Dave and he has a friend.

“How was your visit so far?” he asked. His friend is a female fox, a vixen, and a red fox like me. She keeps her eyes down, and never speaks to me at all. I remind myself that they do things differently here, and so I make no comment. 

“It was. That is, I’m enjoying it, I guess? I didn’t expect anyone to ask.”

“Well, I don’t see the Chancellor very often, and we don’t really get very many visitors like you. To do my job better, I try to learn everything I can.”

“By interrogating the guests?” I ask, and then realize how he might take it. “I mean-“

He laughs instead of being offended. “Very funny. Yes, if that’s what it takes. Is there anything you would like to have? More food perhaps? Something else?”

He’s not looking at the vixen, but I have a kind of impression that all I need to do is ask and I can ‘have’ her. 

“Well, dinner was nice,” I reply, stalling for time. 

“Would you like the recipe?”

“No, no.”

It looks at me again, shrugs, and turns to leave. “Well, if you think of something let me know. Just dial zero on the phone, or let the guard outside know.” He leaves, and the vixen follows.

Guard? Back home I had guards, but they answered to me. I can only wonder what the instructions to this one were? ‘Tackle him if he tries to leave,’ or something like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have some updates about the world outside Zystopia. Confirmation that the Union will respond militarily, but not the way anyone expected. The plan was to blunt the counteract against the walls of the City, but the Union generals knew that also, and so Confederation spies [probably from Mustella] have seen indications of a kind of 'end run'. We also have an evolving relationship between Marshal Reynard and Nick Wilde, and we see Nick on his best behavior as a guest.


	27. Room Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick didn't expect to see anyone else until later in the morning.

“Well, that was odd,” I said to myself. I was speaking out loud mainly for the benefit of any listening devices. “I expect they’ll send me a wake-up call or whatever in the morning?” I asked. There was no answer, of course.

I prowled around until I found a good patch of floor, not in the bathroom, where the floor tiles are all heated, and not too close to the bed, so I can sleep. I kneel in my now usual way, put my arms and then my belly, on the floor, and will myself to sleep. The floor is where I’ve been sleeping for the past five years, and the one time I tried this in a bed I felt like I was being swallowed by a giant. 

 

A sound wakes me, and then a faint, new scent, and slight air movement. I’m no longer alone in the room.

The window is closed, but I can see the moon outside. Then I notice the clock. It’s about 2 AM local time. 

“0h, hello,” I say, after I come more fully awake. There’s a vixen in my chambers and she’s staring at me. I’m in my shorts because this is not my home and I have no idea what sort of, other, odd things they do here. Like, apparently, dropping in unannounced on guests at night. On the other hand, she is pretty, and she might be some sort of messenger. Maybe the queen is back and wants to see me now?

She, I can tell the visitor is definitely female, apparently came alone, and she’s very close to me. She’s about my size, but most of her body is covered with some sort of cloak, so I’m not sure of her precise species. Probably a fox, maybe a coyote or small wolf. 

She’s wearing the kind of scent modifier that I used to wear in Zystopia. My invitation had forbidden its use, apparently because I was expected to meet the Queen, but clearly the other mammals here don’t have that limitation. Like the rule about guards and weapons, it probably only applies to foreigners like me. 

“Hi,” she says, and moves an arm in a kind of wave, somewhat halfheartedly. There is a rattle of something under her armpit as she moves. 

There is very little light, but we can see each other clearly. Or at least I think she can see me clearly, so I stand up, and then she backs up hurriedly, but not far. The door is shut behind her, but her clothes are bulky enough to contain armor and probably weapons. 

“My name is Nick. And you are?” I ask, when it becomes clear that she has nothing more to say. Her muzzle is tilted slightly down, and she seems to be fascinated by my chest or, more likely, the scars on my chest, which is not very surprising. If I was a female, I might say something like, ‘my eyes are up here,’ but I find her visual inspection flattering. I guess I am somewhat vain, still.

“Sorry. I’m Dora, one of the maids. We clean the rooms and the hallways,” she says. I can see her ears, which have gone back a little under the hood she's wearing. I can’t see her tail.

“So, you were going to sneak in, you actually snuck in, and then? What are you going to do next?” I asked. I stopped myself before adding ‘wash the windows?’ Again, I am the outsider, and I have no idea what Novans do or what sort of things might be normal. Maybe this is just something the vixens do here? Drop in and watch you sleep to see if you snore?

“I wanted to see you. But you were on the floor! And closer to the door than I expected! Then your eyes opened and I didn’t know what to do,” she babbled. Or appeared to babble. She pulled her hood up a bit, so now I can’t see her face very clearly, but what little body language I can see does not conform to the confusion in her voice. She is standing very erect, and her arms aren’t moving.

I’ve done this sort of thing, myself. When you’re caught doing something that you should not be doing, there are various ways to respond. She’s doing the ‘act like you belong,’ confident, body language, and also the ‘don’t mind me, I’m harmless’ words, which, taken together, don’t work all that well. Also, the pacing of the words confirms to me that she has rehearsed her lines.

“Oh, okay,” I replied, hoping to put her more at ease by acting like I believed her. “So now what? If you had not seen my eyes open and I had been further away, what would you have done?” 

Instead of answering verbally, she shifts her weight and puts out a paw, but not far, palm down, as if to hold onto something, or touch something. Then she realizes what she’s doing, and who is watching her do it, and puts her paw back down at her side.

“You want to know how I got these scars?” I asked. I wonder if she’ll get the quote from Bat Mammal?

She does. “I guess you were too serious?” 

“Ha. No, it wasn’t that. As you can see, they didn’t touch my face or my muzzle. I’m not sure why.

“This,” I tell her, gesturing, “is a burn scar. They used a cigarette lighter. And this is a brand. They were trying to write something, but eventually gave up.”

“Your name?” She asks, coming closer, but being careful to stay out of my arm’s reach. Very cautious.

“No, it wasn’t that,” I reply, watching her. “They never used my name, as if I didn’t have one.” 

She doesn’t reply, so I continue. “Would it help if I put my arms behind my back?” In many ways, I’m proud of my scars. They’re proof that I’m stronger than the pain. Stronger than my guards, who inflicted the pain. I’m still here and they’re not, after all. So, if it was a game, then I won. 

“I don’t want to seem…” But then she trails off. Her tone indicates a kind of mild embarrassment. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Okay? I’m a male. Females looking at me, at my body, is flattering.” 

“Don’t be getting any ideas, Mister. I’m neither easy nor cheap,” she replies. But she’s not angry either, and is obviously unwilling to leave.

I move toward her again and she flinches, again, and then catches herself and stands a little straighter. 

“Put out a paw,” I tell her, and I move forward enough so that she’s touching my bare chest. Then I move slightly so she has her fingers on one of my burn marks. 

“This was a lighter, you said?” 

“Yes. They had me tied to a chair, which they did a lot. They were just sort of experimenting. ‘What would hurt more?’ Kind of thing.

“Sometimes I was gagged, sometimes I was not. Eventually I learned to control the pain, or at least kind of ignore or trivialize it.”

She touches my chest, but stops herself and pulls away.

“Did you start to like it? The pain? I’ve read that happens…”

“I don’t think so. I can still feel it, but it’s kind of annoying, not really debilitating,” I tell her. Then I turned slightly to catch the moonlight in a different way and gesture at my side. “I got this from a bullet yesterday.”

She looks, again, but only briefly. 

“Good night Mr. Wilde,” she says, and then turns around, yanks open the door, and rushes through it. She almost trips over one of the tables by the door, and then disappears through the opening. I follow, but not very fast because I have to dodge the table. Out in the hall, I see her disappear around the corner, and I don’t see a guard by my door. 

I just stand there a moment, thinking. What was that all about? Who was that really? If this was a story, then that would be the Queen, but then, that might be too easy. It’s more likely that she’s some sort of relative of someone important. She’s here as a kind of ‘take your daughter to work day’ situation. The Queen can simply order me to her quarters, after all, and why would she not? 

But there are many mammals in this place. And they all have relatives. There is only one Queen, so it’s more likely a relative. Someone important enough that others would be willing to do favors. 

The guard shows up. I look at him and he says he gets a bathroom break, which seems reasonable. Did I want anything? I don’t, so I go back in and close the door.

The cameras must’ve seen her, unless she had them deactivated somehow. But I guess that depends on who she is. Maybe she’s some sort of spy? Some sort of agent in training? The visit was too short to be related to any sort of official reason. If it was some sort of distraction or Trojan Horse, then why didn’t she stay longer and ask more questions? 

She called herself Dora, but I am sure there are no maids by that name. I expect to see her again. Probably a member of the court, somewhere in the background. Or she might be some sort of royal relative that never attends that sort of function. 

 

They wake me at 6 AM for breakfast, and tell me I need to be ready by eight. The queen has returned, and wishes to see me. They don't tell me where she was, but they do give me very careful instructions related to the way I am allowed to interact. Don’t get too close. Count the squares to see where to stand, and don’t get closer to her than seven. Don’t turn your back on her. Do what she tells you, no matter what it is. When the audience is done, back out through the doors, which will be opened for you, and then wait until Dave comes to get you. 

When I do meet her two hours later, I find myself eagerly awaiting her explanation for being in my quarters last night. What will she say, or will she say nothing and just play it cool like it wasn't her?

And then, I see her on the throne, and she is obviously not Dora. She does have many ladies, and a few gentle mammals, in waiting. Some look like her and some do not. Any one of these might, or might not, be Dora, but I've been told to look at nothing, and no one, but the queen.

"Nickolas Wilde, son of Francis Wilde. We see you," she says. Her voice is young and she refuses to look directly at me. "Ronin, and Reynard, speak highly of you."

"Thank you, majesty," I reply. When she does, finally, look directly at me, I can see that she is not at all curious; not at all like the vixen from last night. Her eyes have the same kind of opacity as most of the other members of the court, and I find that extremely irritating.

However, remembering the Marshal’s words, I know that some sort of show of gratitude is in order. 

“For my people and my city. Thank you,” I tell them, getting down on knees and then putting my forehead to the ground. This move exposes the back of the neck, and it’s the sort of thing a vassal would do in the presence of his overlord. I hold the pose a few seconds and then raise my head to look. Most of the members of the court, predator and prey, look amazed or, in some cases, scandalized, but the queen's expression remains neutral. She looks at her attendants, most of whom seem more amused than anything else, and then looks back at me. 

“You may go,” she says, so I get up and back out of the room in the way I’ve been instructed to do. I need get back home and get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn't very realistic because the room probably has hidden cameras, but the "unknown visitor" is a common theme in stories like this. So... why not?


	28. Thin Blue Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is about 3 weeks after Z Day, and Judy is trying to be the chief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I can fit in Bogo's chapter. It's not very long yet, but I'm not sure what else to put in there.

Police Chief Hopps did not particularly enjoy her job. She always knew she would be promoted above leftenant rank, but not into this position, and not this soon. Also, she expected to be able to continue to do what she thought of as ‘cop things’, and not have to figure out how to pay her officers. 

Direct taxation had been suggested and implemented because, as everyone knew, the Army was getting the largest slice of the available resources. Now, her most important division was traffic control because any mammal, predator or prey, would pay to have boots removed from their cars, and that, and other, money went toward paying her officers. Eventually, she might have to reduce the number of parking duty officers to keep them from booting too many cars. But not yet. 

As 0830 in the morning, every morning so far, she held briefings. The traffic officers, or most of them anyway, were already out working, but the briefings served to let the ‘real’ cops, or at least their supervisors, know what sort of crime the mayor wanted her to deal with today. Also, the meetings tended to remind everyone that they weren’t alone, and so new personnel were always expected to attend.

“Right. We have more new faces, again, and one of them is a fellow rabbit. Congratulations. You’re now part of a long and distinguished profession,” she said. She had told her team the same thing that first day she was in command, many years ago, and so she used it again when addressing new recruits. Bogo had always thought this sort of verbal encouragement was meaningless. ‘Who cares?’ She remembered him commenting when she asked for advice on what to say. 

The new buck was practically bouncing with enthusiasm, eager to get to work, protecting the city. They got a head full of justice and equality for all citizens, at the Academy, but it was now Judy’s job to set them straight. If she could. Before they got killed or crippled in the war for justice or whatever. 

“Wolford, take your team and see what’s going on in Rainforest. We’ve had some bodies turning up, and we need to know who’s doing the killings. Some have been on the top 10 most wanted list, but some have not. Remind any overly enthusiastic citizens that their help is not required,” Judy said. She didn’t bother to point out that those citizens would be predators. Only an idiot, or a recent Academy graduate, would think anything else. 

“Yes ma’am,” the wolf replied. 

“Delgato. You take Tundratown. I understand the Army is getting some push back from Bigg. See if we can mediate.”

“Yes ma’am,” the cat replied. He knew perfectly well that the Mob and the Confederation Army were not going to be overly worried about whatever the PDZ might think, but he also knew the mayor wanted the police to at least try to keep order. It was their job after all, and they should be seen doing it because the army would not be here forever.

“Don’t get your head shot off,” Hopps added. Some of the new officers grinned, thinking it was a joke. Delgato didn’t. “And take one of the newbies with you.”

The big cat grimaced now, unhappy, but the doe ignored it. ‘He’s a professional and he’ll do his job. No matter what,’ she thought. 

“As for the mayor’s protection detail? Wolfson, pick a couple of newbies and add them to the roster,” the rabbit said, and the wolf nodded. 

“Okay. I think that’s enough adjustments for now. Everyone else? Parking duty,” Hopps said, and jumped down off her stool. Bogo had simply stood behind the lectern and didn’t need a stool, but buffaloes are much larger than rabbits.

The panther held the door open, and the chief headed for it. Judy wondered, idly, if maybe money could be gotten from Colonel Wilde’s office? ‘Probably not-‘

Her thoughts were interrupted when her path was blocked by the new rabbit officer. He was standing between her and the panther, and Judy saw the panther look a question at her. That question was ‘toss him out of the way?’ 

“What?” The chief asked, instead of giving the panther a reply. 

“Ma’am, maybe you didn’t know, I was top of my class at the Academy, and I requested this assignment specifically, so-“

“Shut it. You learned how to behave at the Academy, didn’t you? You’re here at this meeting to listen, not speak, and you don’t come directly to me. You go to your supervisor, and he, or she, comes to me, or, more likely, tells you to shut it like I just had to do. Now get out of my way,” she said. ‘Right. Head full of fur. No brains.’

The buck moved, and she started past him toward the door. Before the door closed, she heard, “I’ll show her. I’ll install twice as many boots as anyone else. Before lunch!”

‘Gods,’ Judy thought, shaking her head. 

 

The chief’s morale, or continued lack thereof, was not going unnoticed. In fact, it was a subject of discussion by a panther and a wolf in a bar later that evening.

“She’s just so depressed all the time. I worry that I’ll show up for work one day and find the window open and the chair vacant. Or there will be a rope and a rabbit hanging from the ceiling,” the panther said.

“Oh? So, you would just stand there while she hooks up the rope?” Edward replied, amused. “Didn’t you say that was your job? Protection?”

“Sure. Protection from outside threats is my job. And opening doors, apparently. This sort of thing? She could be doing it right now. I can’t be there all the time,” Manchas said. “Colonel Wilde only assigned me, and I have to get some time off, and I have to sleep.”

“True,” the wolf replied. “These are easier times for predators like us, and harder times for prey like her, for now. Your new boss? What’s he like? I heard he doesn’t like rabbits much.”

“Yeah, well. She got the job because your boss likes her,” the panther pointed out, and shrugged. “And Wilde gave me a job when I got laid off by Bigg, so I owe him for that.”

“Yes, he likes her, but she’s very well qualified for what she’s doing, and she's very experienced. Her people are motivated even though they don’t always get paid. New ones keep coming forward. Means she’s a good leader.”

“Eventually we won’t even need the squads of armed soldiers in the streets at all,” the panther replied, changing the subject somewhat. “When was the last time anyone saw a tank or a stryder?”

“Good thing too,” the wolf said. “As they will not be staying.” 

“What have you heard? Or maybe I should ask ‘when’ have you heard?”

“Couple months,” the wolf replied, and they sipped their drinks, thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a Princess Bride quote.
> 
> Also, I'm looking at ways to improve Judy's situation, and will probably replace her as head of PDZ / ZPD at some point. Eventually, she'll be able to go back to being just "Leftenant Hopps."


	29. At the Buffalo's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is what happened to Bogo and where he ended up.

The house was as Judy remembered it, the last time she was here. There were no obvious guards, but everyone knew the neighborhood belonged to Mr. Bigg, and the mob boss had had an arrangement with the old ZPD. Chief Sweeney had not pushed the matter when he found out where Capt. Bogo turned up.

Of course, Sweeney had also known that Bogo would never be returning to his old position at ZPD, so he probably considered it a win. 

Manchas parked the cruiser and Judy sat for a moment, staring at the house. Then she asked the panther to wait in the car as she got out and walked up the driveway. ‘It’s such modest dwelling,’ she thought, not for the first time.

There was no picket fence, but there was a nice yard out front. Fire pit in the back. One car garage, because Bogo didn’t drive a car. 

She rang the doorbell, and waited until a female buffalo answered. “Mrs. Bogo? Is Mason available?”

“Left- . That is, Chief Hopps? Congratulations,” the buffalo said, reading the rank on Judy’s collar and smiling. Judy was in uniform, as usual. “Come in.”

“Tea?” The buffalo, Megan, asked.

“No, thank you,” Judy replied, following Megan through the huge, megafauna sized, house.

In the backyard, by the fire pit, they saw an old, battered, male buffalo. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll just, you know, let you talk about cop stuff,” the female buffalo said and went back into the house.

“Hopps,” the male said, in greeting.

“Sir,” she replied automatically.

“You out rank me now, Hopps. Even if I was still on duty, as a captain, which I am not.”

“No, I guess not,” the rabbit replied. She sat down in one of the overlarge chairs. It was that or stand on the table and she refused to do that. Not with this large mammal. It was at least a little disrespectful.

“So. What do you want? I know this is a no social call,” the buffalo said. “I heard what almost happened to you. What actually did happen to most of the other members of the old ZPD above sergeant rank. Not to you, me, and Weaselton of course.” No one had found Weaseltons’s body, so everyone assumed he had escaped somehow. 

“And I heard that the current Mayor is a fox that you arrested five years ago. Apparently he’s not been carrying a grudge?” The buffalo asked. 

“Yes, it’s the same fox, and no, he’s not carrying a grudge,” Judy replied. Of course, Bogo knew more or less everything. Mr. Bigg’s leftenants often talked to Bogo because they knew that Hopps trusted Bogo’s judgment, and they knew that many active members of the PDZ, such as Chief Hopps, talked to Bogo. It was a useful way to keep the peace when the mob and the PDZ did not, officially, communicate. Everyone expected that Mayor Wilde would eventually make some sort of deal with Mr. Bigg.

As for Bogo, his days of arresting criminals and kicking down doors were long over. Currently, he could not walk unassisted, and anyone looking at him would assume that he had been hit by a truck or some other large vehicle. In fact, it was no truck.

Bogo and Sweeney have finally gotten tired of circling each other and their factions had come to blows. Many prey cops had secretly resented Bogo for trying to stop the excessive force being used against predators, and so he didn’t have as much support from the upper ranks as he had hoped. Bogo had lost the fight, and had to be fished out of a river in Tundratown barely alive. After that, before the city was liberated, Bogo was under a kind of house arrest, here. 

His status was less clear, now. Hopps and Bogo knew that Wilde would be willing to pardon Bogo eventually and even Francis Wilde felt no grudges against the mammal that was crippled fighting for the rights of predators.

Francis Wilde had even sent Bogo a gift, or what Francis thought of as a gift, a day after the liberation. It had been a recording of Sweeney’s execution with several hours of bonus footage that Bogo had not watched. Judy knew Sweeney had not died quickly or easily, just as she knew that Francis had enjoyed watching and participating in that death. And she knew the PDZ could do absolutely nothing about the murder, for that is what it was, even if she wanted to. 

“What do you think of him? The mayor?” Bogo asked, surprising Judy out of her memories. The former captain had his own opinion, but he’d never met Nickolas Wilde, so he wanted to get the impression of someone he trusted. 

“He’s a fox. What can I say?” Judy replied. “That’s why they picked him. That and the jail thing… They apparently thought they could control him, and I think they were right. He talks a great deal and doesn’t do much. Like a smaller version of Lionheart.”

“So, you don’t like him? Kind of what I expected,” Bogo replied. “I expect you don’t like your new job either?”

“I hate it,” the rabbit replied, candidly. “Every day I gain a new respect for what you had to do as a captain and what you were going to have to do more of if you had managed to replace Sweeney.”

“Somebody was going to have to do it. Also, I was never a beat cop like you. Not really. I never kicked down any doors, or not very often, and I never wanted to do that sort of thing the way that you did. 

“I always knew I would be a captain one day. Like you, I’m a herbivore, but also megafauna, unlike you, and we all know the Union, which likes us big mammals, had final say in promotions like mine. Now it’s the Confederation of course, which is why we have a fox mayor, but I expect Bunnyborrough is the main reason for your release from jail and appointment as chief.”

Judy just shrugged, not really thinking much about what Bogo was trying to tell her. “How did Bellweather achieve power? She was no megafauna.”

“Yes, that one was a surprise. Probably some kind of power-sharing arrangement with Lionheart as a figurehead. Not really sure precisely how that worked, not that it mattered. Lionheart is long gone now.

“As for you, Judy, you need an understudy. Somebody competent, experienced, trustworthy, prey, and a rabbit, preferably.”

“Not many of those! Lots of new recruits are rabbits, but they’re all dumb as posts!” This rabbit replied, remembering a recent morning briefing. “How about Delgato? He’s competent, professional, and megafauna ”

“And not prey. And the Union isn’t in charge, so megafauna doesn’t matter.”

“Well, he reminds me of you-”

“And see how well that turned out!” The buffalo replied, snorting briefly, before coughing. 

“Any chance I can convince you to come back to work? I can let you ease back in. Maybe do some parking duty to start off?” she asked. She was half joking, but only half. 

Then, seeing the unamused way Bogo was looking at her, she added, “Just kidding!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on having better, or at least more, description of my locations.


	30. Fox and Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I was thinking Judy needed some sort of lighter chapter.

“Ma’am there is a fox here to see you,” Clawhauser’s voice said over the intercom.

“Which one?” Judy replied, only half paying attention. She had had a report of a possible sighting of a mammal of interest outside the building being used by the committee preparing the new constitution. ‘Can’t have this asshole causing trouble-’

“He says his name is Finn,” the intercom replied, interrupting Judy's train of thought again. 

Judy sighed, and turned away from the computer screen. “Send him up.”

 

“And what does the mayor want today?” The rabbit asked as the casually dressed fox entered her office and jumped up on a stool in front of her desk. 

“Red don’t know I’m here. And it’s not what he wants anyway. You're a good looking doe. My social calendar is currently clear. Want to do some ruttin’?” Finn asked, in his usual blunt way. Ears forward, head cocked, and paws on hips. 

Judy hesitated before telling him just what he could do with his offer. It’d been a long time, and Finn would be a useful ‘insider’. Then she nearly winced at the unintentional pun.

“With charm like that, I’ve got to wonder why you don’t already have a lover? Maybe you’re trying to be unfaithful.”

“I don’t, and I’m here, now, looking at you,” he replied. 

Then he shrugged. “But I can see you’re not sure, so let you think on it. Leave you with a number. 27.”

“27 what? Sexual partners? Children?”

“No children, and not sex partners. Nowhere near. You figure out what it is, copper, and tell me what your number is.” Then he turned around, jumped off the stool, and left.

 

A day passed, and Judy saw Finn again. This time in the gym at PDZ headquarters.

‘He probably asked somebody to find out when I usually work out,’ she thought, somewhat annoyed. It was too easy to fall into predicable routines while being stuck behind a desk most of the time. This was yet another thing she hated about the job, but there were benefits such as improved access to information. After the visit yesterday, she had had a look in the database, and not found any mention of the finnic fox. If he had had contact with law enforcement, even as an informant, it had been very unofficial. 

Today, the fox was wearing what looked like workout clothes, but not anything she would’ve seen at any dojo she had attended. On the other hand, she had never been to an actual dojo with predators, or seen one that served only, or mostly, predators. Her fellow cops tended to wear whatever was comfortable, as this fox was apparently doing. 

She didn’t have any ‘counseling’, as she called it, today, because none of her officers had misplaced their body cameras recently, so she had planned to simply ask for volunteer sparring partners. She rarely had any, and wasn’t sure precisely why. The big tigers and bears and such always wore plenty of pads, after the first time anyway. They didn’t actually have to do much because they had learned that there was no way they could catch her. Maybe they didn’t like being tackle dummies?

She got into the ring with the usual scowl on her face, put her hands on her hips, and turned in a circle. “Would anyone care to join me?”

“How bout me?” the fox asked. Of course.

She nodded, and beckoned to him with a paw, so he climbed into the ring. Judy noticed that Finn had no apparent difficulty, as if he’d done it many times before. Also, he wore no pads.

“Are you sure you don’t want any armor?” She asked. 

“No. Just hand-to-hand. No weapons, so no reason to bother with any of that pansy stuff,” he replied. Judy could see that his ears were not back and hear his heart rate was the same as it had been yesterday in the office. 

‘But I can’t let him get away with saying that. There are too many officers listening,’ the rabbit thought. “Pansy? Maybe I’ll bruise you a few times and change your mind?”

“Bruise me maybe. Change my mind? No,” the fox replied. 

They squared off in the ring. Judy took a kind of ready stance with one leg back, and the other forward, feet spread, and weight centered slightly back. Finn didn’t. He just stood there, weight equally distributed on both feet, arms at his sides. Heart beating at the normal speed.

‘Is he inexperienced, or does he know I would be looking for clues based on how he stood?’ Judy wondered. 

“OK,” she replied. “Are you any good? I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to have to hold back either.”

“Don’t hold back,” he replied.

She moved immediately, leaping forward, coming straight at him. She turned in mid air to present her feet, but didn’t draw back to strike the way she would normally have done on the street. Such a move would have transferred all the kinetic energy to her opponent, and left her standing where he had been. Finn seemed to anticipate this move, and leaned left with his upper body, turning at the waist as she went by. He made no attempt to grapple. 

Judy landed behind him and then bounced again, coming straight back at him, as he turned fully toward her. This time she landed near him, and caught him with the ball of one foot on his shoulder as he shifted. He grunted and pulled back slightly as she put her foot back on the ground. Judy didn’t press her advantage by continuing the pattern, and Finn didn’t move, waiting. 

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to try and hit me?” She asked. 

“Dad told me I shouldn’t hit a girl,” he replied, grinning and showing teeth.

This time she aimed for, and hit, the side of his muzzle, but if it hurt him, she couldn’t tell, as he dropped down and tried to kick her own legs out from under her. He was just slightly too slow and she bounced away. Again, he didn’t try to follow. 

‘Why doesn’t he move his feet?’ She thought, circling him clockwise. He just turned in place, keeping her in his field of vision. 

Other officers were gathering around the ring, and pretty much every cop had stopped whatever they had been doing. She suspected that officers would soon be arriving from the shooting range as well. 

“Want to give them a show?” The fox asked, motioning with his muzzle to the audience. “Maybe you can demonstrate some useful moves?”

That was a good idea, but only if her partner was either incompetent at fighting, and therefore not likely to be able to stop her, or, preferably, willing to cooperate. 

“OK,” she replied, and then turned slightly to address part of her audience. She didn’t turn a full circle this time because that would have caused her to lose sight of her opponent. “Officers. This is Finn. He’s a friend of the mayor.”

The fox bowed, slightly, grinning. This time, he didn’t show teeth. “Some of them already know me.”

Judy wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she noticed Delgato nodding, slightly. ‘I’ll have to ask him later,’ she thought. 

“We’re going to demonstrate the best ways to take down an opponent your size. As you can see, this gentle mammal is a predator, so prey mammals like me can’t simply draw a weapon and order him or her to comply with instructions.”

“Well, you could…” the fox observed. 

“You won’t,” Judy said, scowling, at her officers. “The new standard procedure is clear. Citizens are not going to see any prey officers using a weapon on a predator unless that predator has a weapon, and has obviously shown a willingness to use it on nearby civilians. Most of the time, prey officers will not be fighting predators like you, or not one on one, but I’m going to show you some moves in case you have to fight a similarly sized mammal of concern.”

“Mammal of concern?” Finn said, under his breath, but Judy ignored it. "What that mean?"

Judy turned to Finn. “Hit me, or try to,” she said. He paused, and she said, “officers are trained to respond to provocation, and not to actually start a fight. So, try to hit me.”

The fox swung, somewhat clumsily, exactly the way a citizen would, especially if they had had too much to drink. Judy leaned back, and then captured the arm with her own arms and twisted the forearm to over extend the elbow and force the arm behind the fox’s back. She noticed a kind of brief hesitation, as if his normal response to this move would be something different, and then he let his arm be guided back. 

“OK. Now pair off, and practice that move…” Judy said, after releasing Finn. The fox stood back and watched as Judy got her officers training, and then he followed when she climbed out of the ring and headed for the showers. 

She stopped by the female entrance. “You were holding back, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. Can’t have them other cops seeing you lose. You might not like me if I did that,” he replied. “Want you to like me. A lot.”

“Yes, I think you’ve been clear as to your intentions,” she replied. “Would you be able to come back here after normal hours, say, around 2 AM? That way, we wouldn’t have such an audience.”

He smirked at her, so she added, “for sparring.” But she smiled when she said it. 

“’K,” he replied, and walked away without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 confirmed kills, by the way. Finn is bragging to Judy because he feels like she's someone that would understand. Nick is Finn's best friend, but they don't have the same sort of priorities. Judy has a similar number from her years on the job.


	31. The fox comes home again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more plot development. Nick working on preparing his city for, eventual, siege, and the Union is trying to stir the pot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is approximately Z Day Plus 28 days. Or that's how I envision it....

The Marshall and I returned to Zystopia later that day, but we didn’t speak. There was really nothing to say, and he did not sit near me. It may have seemed childish, but I could only respond by accepting his apparent wish for solitude. In any case, I had my own thoughts and concerns. 

Arrival in Zystopia brought with it a return to my old routine, and to familiar scents and faces. 

“John. Edward. Anything happened while I was gone?” I asked. They met me at the airport as if I was some relative or family friend and they were merely going to offer me a ride. Perhaps they would let me sleep on the couch for the night? Or that’s how it felt anyway.

“We had a Union guest,” John said. “It was the ambassador. That warthog? You remember?”

I nodded, and he continued. “He didn’t say anything unexpected. Our defeat is inevitable and that kind of thing. The prey majority will never allow this abomination to continue.”

While John was speaking, I looked at Edward. He looked uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure why. I’m pretty sure there’s something he wants to tell me, or maybe it’s something he doesn’t want to tell me, but he thinks he should. Something about the ambassador?

We got in the car almost like normal mammals. Except that normal mammals don’t have guards watching everything while we do it. Also, normal mammals might use a smaller vehicle like an Impala, perhaps. John and Edward and I were still using the large, armored, limousine.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I asked. I wanted to rest after my flight and the morning’s audience with the Queen, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Constitutional convention, boss,” John said, and Edward nodded. Then they gave me a tablet computer with some notes. 

“Dammit. I forgot about that, but I can’t attend right now however. Who do we know in the military?”

“Sir? You just got back from-“ Edward started to say, surprised.

“I need someone with the Zystopian military. Not the Confederation. Who do we have?” I asked, slightly, and irrationally, annoyed that my aides still cannot read my mind. 

They looked at each other, and John said, “that would be Major Burns.”

“Contact him for an immediate meeting. There’s something I need to discuss,” I told him, and went back to reading the tablet. 

“Right. All mammals are created equal. That’s good. All mammals have the right to express truth, to make art, to express an opinion, to defend themselves from harm,” I muttered to myself. 

John interrupted my thoughts. “Sir. Major Burns is not available.”

“Not available? What happened? Is he dead? Or she?”

“Not available as ‘not in his office and they don’t know where he is'. Sir,” John replied. His ears were back and he wasn’t meeting my eyes. He smelled like a kind of shame, which didn’t make sense. This wasn’t his fault. 

“OK. To whom have you been speaking?” I asked. 

“Captain Hopper, sir,” John said. “He’s the senior company commander present.”

“Well, tell him to meet us at my office immediately,” I replied. “And stop it with the ‘sir’ crap. This screwup is not your fault.”

“No, but you left us in charge while you were away, and the first thing that happens when you get back is this.”

“I understand. It’s OK, alright?” I said, trying to be reassuring. Not that I felt that way, but it was the right thing to say. “And it’s not the first thing. That was the constitutional convention, and I assumed that’s going as expected?”

They both nodded, reluctantly. 

 

The limo parked in the back after letting me off at the front door. I nodded to the police mammal standing by the door, a wolf named Lobo, and he nodded back. Things were more or less as they had been.

James met me inside. “You have a guest. I put him in the library.”

I nodded again, and went to the library, motioning for John to come with me. If something happens to me, either John or Edward will need to be able to replace me, and that means one or the other of them, or both, have to be familiar with things like this. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” the rabbit said, when he saw me. His eyes and ears turned, briefly, to John, and then back to me. He had been standing in front of my desk. 

“Have a seat, captain. This is John, one of my many assistants.” The rabbit and the wolf nodded to each other, and then the rabbit sat in the rabbit sized chair provided for him. I barely noticed it anymore, but we’re all different sizes, and so we can’t all use the same chairs. The rabbit’s chair, like my desk, was elevated on a kind of platform, while the wolf’s chair was further back from my desk and not elevated. An elephant would have had to sit on the floor, or more likely, done some sort of video call. 

I examined the rabbit while he got himself seated. Very neat. The uniform had all the various ribbons and medals I would normally associate with a serving officer, and it was green the way all Army uniforms were. We hadn’t yet been able to replace the old, pre-liberation, uniforms, but that was one of the things that I hoped someone was working on.

“So, I called you here to discuss the readiness state of our Army, Captain. What is it?” I asked. I was being more blunt than usual to see how this officer reacted. “Just for your information, not that I expect this to surprise you, but the Confederation Army won’t be staying. In fact, they might be leaving as early as next month.” 

He didn’t seem to notice my bluntness and, unlike John, was unsurprised by the news of the sooner than expected, or hoped for, departure date. “Sir, Zystopian army units are ready to fight. Give us two hours and we can have all vehicles and planned defensive positions occupied and ready to defend the city. Plans have already been drawn up related to where those soldiers and vehicles would need to go.”

“How many soldiers? Does everyone have all their equipment?” I asked. I noticed he didn’t say ‘all positions.’ He said all ‘planned positions,’ which is probably a smaller number. 

“Current strength is four thousand, three hundred and fifteen, fully trained and stationed in the barracks inside the city walls. All mammals fully organized and equipped. All mammals have rifles or pistols as appropriate.” 

“Pistols for officers and vehicle crew?” I asked, remembering my own days in a vehicle. I drove a communications truck and had a rifle, which I thought was silly at the time. Tank and armored personnel carrier crews had pistols, so why didn’t I?

“Yes, sir,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate and I knew what that meant. His manner was the same kind of impassive indifference that I’d seen from my own more experienced comrades in the military on the rare occasions when they had had to address a superior officer. I had learned from that and adopted the same sort of manner in those situations when I became more experienced. 

“Give me the bad news.”

“Sir, it’s only been a few weeks since the liberation. Many mammals are new at their jobs. All pre-liberation officers were prey mammals, but most of those were found to be unfit. Some of them were executed for crimes against mammal kind, and most of the others, and all the higher ranking officers, were either removed from service or demoted to enlisted ranks.”

Ouch. “So, all, or nearly all, of the current officers are new at their jobs and I doubt anybody has much of any idea about large scale logistics?”

Now I smelled surprise from the rabbit. “Yes, sir, but the hope is that we won’t be expected to conduct large scale movement beyond the city walls in the next year or two. That should give us some time to work out the various challenges.”

Well, that was blunt. I wonder what Burns would have said if he had been here? “And you, captain. Are you new at your job?”

“Yes sir. As a captain. I was a leftenant four weeks ago,” the rabbit said. 

John leaned over and showed me something on his tablet. “Ah, yes. Court martialed, but exonerated. You were found chained to a tree?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied. 

“Right. You’re a company commander now?”

“Yes sir. G Company.”

“Fine. But you’re getting another job as well. I like the way your answer questions, and so you’re going to get an opportunity, as they say, to excel. I won’t take your company from you, but I will be calling on you to meet with me and some associates of mine. We are going to expand the Army. We are going to improve the quality of your weapons and equipment. You are going to be coordinating with me and the Confederation Legion commander to get this done. Are we clear?”

“Sir… I am currently under the command of Legate Sinestro. As you know, he’s the Confederation Army commander here in the City,” the rabbit replied, carefully. He knew perfectly well that I had forgotten that detail. 

“Huh. I thought you were separate?” I looked at John, and he nodded toward to Captain, agreeing with the rabbit. 

“Our army is, effectively, part of their army at the moment. We’ve only got a battalion, or cohort, as they call it, and we don’t have many senior officers, so….” The wolf said, for my benefit. 

“Right. That’s why I’m meeting with a captain today, not a colonel or general. Another thing we need to address…” I said, looking at Captain Hopper. The rabbit, of course, didn’t react, visibly. His scent did change toward anticipation, and so I think I know which officer will need another promotion pretty soon.

And it looks like I will need to speak with the Field Marshall again, sooner than I’d like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information about Captain Hopper, see "Live by the Sword."
> 
> Nick Wilde is concerned about not being able to locate the senior military officer because this might have been a real emergency. The news might have been that the Confed Army was leaving today or an attack was expected today or tomorrow, and so the senior military mammal can't be unavailable like this. Major Burns will, very likely, be reassigned and demoted to something easier and more fitting to his apparently limited skills. 
> 
> I had planned to write a chapter with the Union Ambassador before this one, but I had this one ready and not that one, so I submitted this one.


	32. Francis and Judy 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Confederation Army preparing to leave, the Head of the Secret Police visits the Chief of the other Police.

“Ma’am, there’s another fox here to see you,” Clawhauser’s voice said from the intercom. 

Judy smiled, thinking she knew who it was. “If he’s short with big ears, send him up.”

“No ma’am. It’s Francis Wilde,” Claw’s voice replied, and Judy’s good mood evaporated.

“Very well. Please give him an escort to my office. I’ll see him without his guards,” Judy replied. 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Ma’am, this is Colonel Wilde,” Delgato said, having opened the door. “His panther guards are downstairs.” 

The fox stepped past the big cat without, apparently, noticing him, and addressed the rabbit. “Nice office you have here. It’s the same one that Sweeney used to have?”

“Yes, colonel. It’s the same office,” Judy replied, to the fox. Then, to the tiger, “Thanks Del.” She had not risen from her chair behind the big desk, and her ears stayed draped behind her head. 

The cat nodded and turned away. Judy could hear that the big cat walk a few steps and then start talking to another one of her officers who happened to be nearby. Again, the fox appeared not to notice the somewhat subtle way the cops were displaying their support of their chief, as he focused his attention entirely on the rabbit. 

‘She’s tired, but her new boyfriend seems to have improved her mood,’ the spy master thought. He gestured at one of the fox sized chairs, and looked at the rabbit. “May I?’

“Of course,” the chief of police said, slightly surprised that the fox was being so polite. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Yes, the ‘pleasure,’” the fox replied, using his paws to make air quotes. He sat down and then went on, “but the pleasure is all mine isn’t it? 

“I am here to let you know that your job, and the job of your mammals, is to arrest criminals, not to make policy. I am aware of recent conversations between the PDZ and Mr. Bigg, and I am here to tell you that we have not decided how to handle him yet, and you should stop assuming that he is going to still be around when the Army pulls out.”

“We? Colonel? Who is we?” The rabbit asked, but she thought she had a pretty good idea. 

“We,” he replied, not using air quotes this time, “are the Field Marshal and I. We’ll make a decision and then inform the Mayor, my son, and then he’ll inform you. At which point, you’ll tell your mammals what I need them to do.”

Police Chief Hopps sat silent for half a minute. The question ‘What would Bogo do?’ went through her mind, but was dismissed. ‘It doesn’t matter what he would have done,’ she decided. ‘It’s my job now.’

“And what makes you think I’m going to let you give me orders that way? The Chief of Police answers to the Mayor, as you said, and the Field Marshal hasn’t told me that he’s working as closely with you as you’re implying,” she said. 

“Oh, you will, and of course the Viceroy doesn’t tell you everything. We’re both foxes and I’m sure you know that my mammals gave him the city on a silver platter during the liberation. You, on the other paw, haven’t done anything for him and he’s never even met you. He, and his army, will be leaving soon, and when he does, he’ll probably tell the citizens that my son, Nick, is in charge,” the fox said, smiling and showing teeth. He was leaning back his chair with paws folded in front of him. “I’m sure you know what that will mean.” 

‘He’s not wrong,’ Judy thought. “Very well. Might you tell me what you expect the decision to be?” the rabbit asked, aloud. 

 

Ten minutes later, the rabbit used her intercom again. “Claw, Colonel Wilde is leaving, and needs an escort. Please have two officers report to my office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the intercom replied. 

The fox stood up and shook his head. He looked down, partially facing the rabbit on the other side of the desk. Then he shrugged and turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll just be going, then? Remember what I said.”

Judy did not reply. She could see two mammals in blue, one a rhino and the other a hippo, outside her office. ‘Claw must have a pretty good idea about how I feel about the Colonel,’ she thought and watched the fox walk out. 

The fox went out and then Leftenant Delgato stuck his head in. He didn’t say anything, but only lifted an eyebrow in question. 

“Please,” Judy said, and motioned with a paw. “Come in. We have things to discuss “

The tiger entered the office and shut the door. “That fox is being his usual pain in the ass?” He asked, sitting down in an appropriately sized chair. 

‘And that’s why the door is shut,’ Judy thought. “Yes, he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s the chief of the secret police; he’s got at least two dozen armed mammals working directly for him; we know that he can, literally, get away with murder; and I’ve been told, by Reynard, that he expects us to work together. For the greater good of the city of Zystopia,” Judy said, counting on her fingers. 

Delgato snorted. “What does the mayor think? If we can convince-“ 

Judy frowned and interrupted him. “That fox is no friend of ours, either. I’m sure he knows what’s going on, but he’s going to go on pretending not to know,” Judy replied. “Probably for that deniability thing he’s doing.” 

“Yes ma’am,” the tiger replied, but more in resignation than in agreement. 

“Look. It doesn't matter anyway, because I can’t go running to the mayor every time somebody gives me trouble. I’m the chief of police, so I need to solve my own problems,” she said. “Anyway, the good colonel dropped by today to tell me to stop talking to Mr. Bigg. I’m not sure exactly why. Got any ideas in that area?”

The tiger paused, ordering his thoughts. “Bigg’s mammals have shown a certain amount of restraint lately. It’s like he’s told his mammals to act less like criminals and more like good citizens. They make sure garbage is picked up, make sure pot holes in the roads and holes in the sidewalks are repaired, and generally takes care of the needs of the mammals in his area, Tundratown. I would almost say he wants to become some sort of city council mammal.” Delgato didn’t bother to mention Bigg’s efforts on crime control. Judy knew that nobody would commit any sort of crime in Tundratown without permission. Or not more than once, anyway.

“Ok,” Judy replied. “Frankly, I don’t care what that fox thinks. We’ll keep talking to Bigg. I’ll let everyone know at the next morning briefing that we might have some sort of hostility from secret police mammals.”

“Yes ma’am,” the tiger replied again. He knew that when she said ‘we’ that she really meant ‘you’, but he also respected her unwillingness to be bullied by someone like Colonel Wilde. 

‘I just wish she would work a little harder on the political side of this. If he’s smart, Francis will use this to stage an incident, paint us as the bad guys in front of Reynard, and then push for more control for him and his people. Reynard might agree, just to have one less problem to worry about before his army pulls out. Nick might, might, be willing to do more for us if Hopps would ask.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Degato is most likely correct.
> 
> Field Marshal Reynard is also the Viceroy. We learned in a recent chapter that his army will be leaving in a matter of weeks to protect the City of Nova from Union attack. The Viceroy, the Queen of Nova, Francis Wilde [and his son], and Finn, are all different types of foxes.
> 
> Francis asks about Chief Sweeney because Francis killed Sweeney when the city was taken, on Z+7 days.


	33. Conversations about a fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some further information about Nick's visit to Nova.

“So you met him and talked. What do you think?” The queen asked. The fox, a squirrel, and two wolves were meeting in one of the official conference rooms on the first floor of the palace. The chairs were of finest quality manta skin, and correctly sized to each mammal. The table was a one piece marble construct; the floor was a similar type of stone, but just enough different to be obvious. 

One of the wolves, Ronin, had been expecting this question. The entire point of the invitation was to meet this foreigner. Get a feel for him. Determine the vulpine's suitability to continue to rule Zystopia, instead of one of the two lupine candidates. 

‘The Queen had and has additional motives,’ he thought. ‘But it’s not my place to complain when she has already made up her mind. My life in the palace is worth more than telling the queen how I really feel.’ He knew that Dave felt the same way, and was therefore unlikely to speak at this meeting. 

Aloud, “I was suitably impressed. He’s very inexperienced, but seems to be able to delegate. He cares about the people, and thinks of them as ‘his.’ That is a good sign in this case.” The wolf hoped to cast some doubt, but only indirectly. 

However, it was the other wolf, the chancellor, that spoke next, and he wasn’t as interested in discussing Nick. “Are we going to add Zystopia to the Confederation?”

Both wolves looked at the artic vixen, who shook her head. 

The real power in the City of Nova, and thus the Carnivore Confederation, lay in the paws of the Skylar Dynasty, as had been true since Skylar I took power from Loba VII by the simple expedient of killer her rival in a duel. The fox, of course, had won, and immediately replaced the chancellor and the council with mammals more friendly to her and her house. These mammals had to be wolves, by tradition, but she, and her descendants, could pick which ones. 

“No. Not yet. Their citizens are mostly prey, and they won’t accept it. Eventually, Wilde might be able to talk them around,” the queen replied. She knew Ronin had not directly discussed this option with Nick Wilde because she had watched the video of the interview, but the red fox’s indirect comments had been promising. 

“So we won’t be ordering John or Edward to kill Nick?“ The chancellor pressed, trying to look like he was seeking clarification rather than attempting to change the queen’s mind. “It would be safer, in the long run, just to kill Nick and replace him with-”

“No,” the queen interrupted. “Stand them down.” Her ears did not go back, but the tone was firm and her scent very slightly angry. 

However, the Chancellor wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. “But we know they are loyal to us-“

The queen waved a paw, impatiently. “Yes, yes, and he isn’t, or not as much. But! But they can’t rule the city the way he can. Also, I believe Nick thinks he is our friend, so we’ll give him a chance.” 

“And there are those rumors that either John or Edward have been meeting the Union ambassador without telling us about it,” Ronin put in to support his monarch, and they all grimaced. 

 

Some hours later, half a dozen vixens, and one tod, were watching what appeared to be a home movie. Or possibly video made by some sort of amateur spy.

“See how he moves!” Karo, the male said, gesturing.

“Move your paw so I can see properly,” one of the females replied, indignantly. This was Klara and she was nearly drooling while watching the show.

The subject of their conversation, attention, and the video, was Nick Wilde, former guest of Queen Skyler III. He had only stayed part of two days, and one night, but everyone in the court was fascinated with him. 

“I wish it had been me in there with him,” another vixen said. This one, like her queen, was a white furred female. Also, like the Queen, and the others here, she had no mate. 

The video was not long, and soon ended, again. They had all seen it several times.

“Get the lights,” another white furred vixen, Dora, said. Karo flipped the switch from his chair without bothering to rise. They were in one of the many meeting rooms in the basement of the palace. The room was above the detention area, or “dungeon”, but not high enough to have actual windows. 

It was night, and the queen was, officially, asleep, so everyone here felt more relaxed. Day and night here in the palace were defined by the queen’s activities. If she was awake, that was day. If she was asleep, that was night. Unlike Skylar II, this monarch rarely took naps and some of the foxes in the room were annoyed by this.

“So?” Dora asked, turning in her chair to address the others.

“You know what we think. He’s quite the catch,” Nira, one of the smaller vixens, observed. 

Sara, one of the others, disagreed. “He is not of noble birth. Son of a former tailor. This is no prince or fairy tale and he is no warrior of any skill.”

“But warriors work for him. They would do what he says,” Karo observed. “That’s what Reynard says anyway. And Rey is a soldier.”

“It's not the same thing. And that’s hearsay anyway,” Dora commented, somewhat absently. She was looking down, obviously thinking. 

“Ask him yourself if you’re not convinced,” Karo replied. He knew that conversation would never happen.

“You couldn’t get him to… I don’t know, remove his shorts?”” Another female asked, wistfully, and several vixens giggled. 

“You didn’t get enough? I seem to recall that you, and several others, visited his room before it could be cleaned and the maids were very annoyed,” Dora said. 

“And even more annoyed when several items turned up missing, I’m sure,” Karo added. 

They laughed, knowing that there were many places where the foreigner’s scent had lingered. One patch of floor, where he had slept. The bath. The chair in which he had sat. There weren’t enough treats to go around, and only Dora had actually interacted with him. She had touched him!

“And then you ran away,” Sara had observed at the end of the second viewing. 

“Well of course I did. There wasn’t much time and the guard was going to be coming back shortly,” Dora replied. 

“The guard! You could have-“

“You know I don’t like to do that sort of thing. He’s just doing his job, and whatever I might, or might not, be able to do to him shouldn’t be a factor,” Dora replied. Ears more forward, but not really angry. 

“’Do that sort of thing,’ she calls it,” Karo said and laughed. He got an obscene gesture, and they all laughed “Watch it again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some additional Dora character development. 
> 
> Also, Nick thought he was talking to the chancellor when Nick met Ronin, but in fact the chancellor was one of the wolves that watched. This is going to be a theme in the palace; you don't always know to whom you are speaking.


	34. Marshal Reynard and Francis Wilde, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis Wilde gets disappointing news

The fox was working late, as usual, in his office near Government House. His building had previously been used for some sort of tax records or similar. Now it was becoming known for something else entirely. 

‘I could have had my office in the Governor’s mansion, and I would have, if Nick was willing to be reasonable. He’s not, so I need my section to be separate, and that means our own building,’ he thought. ‘And all those storage areas in the basement are coming in handy for guests.’

The phone blinked, indicating an incoming call on his direct line. Not many had that number, and, anyway, he knew who it was, so he answered immediately, accepting the requested Muzzletime. He had been expecting a call from the fox on the screen. 

“Marshal Reynard. Good evening, sir! How may I serve the Confederation?” Francis asked, putting on his best ‘I’m just happy to do whatever you tell me’ face. 

“Serve the Confederation? Yes, yes, that’s a wise idea. You already know I’ll be leaving soon and taking all, or most, of the Army with me when I do,” the Field Marshal said and watched Francis Wilde nod. 

Then he continued, “we need stability in the city before that time, and I need to know that all my chiefs can work together.”

“Yes, sir?” the chief of the secret police asked when the Marshal paused again. He knew where this was going, and had been dreading this conversation. ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad?’ He thought. 

“So. What is your problem with Hopps?” The Marshal asked. “And don't give me the whole ‘we're foxes, she’s a rabbit, and we know they’re evil,’ song and dance.” 

‘Maybe just the song part?’ Francis thought. Then, aloud, “Sir, I don’t like the way she’s acting. She’s been going behind my back by negotiating with members of the Zystopian Mob. She’s been telling Mr Bigg-“

“Bigg is not your concern,” the other fox interrupted. “And Chief Hopps works for the Mayor, who works for me, and not for you. You’re the secret police and responsible only for the sort of things that we can’t have mammals know too much about. The PDZ is the other side of the coin. They take care of things we can’t, or don't want to, hide. 

“Everyone knows that her officers have been in contact with Bigg’s mammals, and Bigg is too influential in Tundratown for us to simply step on him, especially now, so we’ll have to make some sort of public deal with him.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought dealing with Bigg was something that fell into my sphere.” Francis replied. His voice was without emotion and he refused to look at Reynard. “Should I have consulted my son before talking to Hopps?”

“You should have consulted me, Colonel. If Bigg needed to be removed, that would have been your job, if that was my decision. If. And if Hopps needs to be redirected, it’ll be done through the office of the mayor,” Reynard said. “That’s also my decision.” 

‘While you’re here,’ Colonel Wilde thought, but very carefully didn’t say.

Reynard noticed it anyway. “I am the Viceroy for the Queen. You are not. Your son is not. Chief Hopps is not. They seem to understand that. The only one that apparently doesn’t understand is you, so I’m going to give you some assistance.

“It turns out that one of Mustella’s counter intelligence fangs is available. So he’s going to be taking some of the burden off your shoulders,” the Field Marshal said. Ears back, teeth showing, and posture leaning forward into the camera. “Do you understand, Colonel?”

‘That’s the bad,’ Colonel Wilde thought, frozen into momentary uncertainty. He leaned away from the camera pickup and chose his words carefully. “Don’t you trust me sir? Haven’t I sacrificed for the cause?”

“I don’t trust you as much as I did,” the younger fox replied. “And we’re all making sacrifices. The queen-. That is, Fang Delrio was supposed to be allowed to return home. Instead, I have to assign him to babysit you because you don’t seem to understand how to play well with others.”

The older fox flinched, slightly, but he asked, “sir, what did Hopps say about my conversation with her?”

“She didn’t tell me,” Reynard said. He thought, ‘so. There was something going on. It’s a good thing I asked because this Wilde wasn’t going to ever tell me.’

“May I ask-“

“Chose your next words very carefully, Colonel. Remember, we are not peers. Do not abuse our past good relationship, or it will be forgotten,” Reynard said. 

“May I. That is, may I know what your orders are for Bigg?” Wilde said, instead of asking who told Reynard about the situation with Hopps and Bigg.

Somewhat mollified, and not sure if he had pushed this subordinate too far, Reynard gave him an honest answer. “Your son is thinking that we need to draw Bigg into the existing power structure by making him, Bigg, some sort of Deputy Mayor, or something similar, in charge of Tundratown. Amnesty for any crimes that he may, or may not, have committed. That sort of thing. I’m giving his proposal some thought.” 

“Yes, sir, of course,” Wilde replied, neutrally. 

‘I might have gone too far. Especially because I’ll be leaving soon,’ Reynard thought. ‘I’ll have to make sure that Delrio knows not to tread on Wilde’s toes too heavily, and now would not be a good time to tell him I’m looking at replacing the police chief.’

“Very well, colonel. Is there anything to report related to the Union Ambassador situation?” Reynard asked. 

“Sir, this line is not as secure as I would like,” Wilde said, reluctantly. 

“Of course, of course. I forgot. Thanks for the reminder! Come and see me tomorrow and we’ll discuss it. Around 0900 ish?”

‘Like I have a choice? Like I would do anything ‘ish’?’ Wilde thought. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be there,” he said.

Field Marshal Reynard signed off, and Colonel Francis Wilde stared at the screen for a minute, and then accessed the personnel database. 

FANG DELRIO, he typed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francis is looking for ways to increase his own authority after the Confederation Army departs. Getting a partner loyal to that Army is a large fly in that ointment. 
> 
> Remember that a "fang" is basically the same rank as a colonel. Reynard thinks they'll work together, and doesn't seem to realize what's going to happen.
> 
> Also, Reynard was going to refer to the death of Skylar II [sister of Skylar III], but realized that Francis doesn't need to know about that. So he referred to Delrio's sacrifice instead.


End file.
